Heartland Blood
by Aelfgiva
Summary: When the BAU arrives in Amish country to investigate the brutal murders of an Amish family and the kidnapping of two children, Reid becomes fascinated by the Amish culture, and intrigued by the local expert. Rated M for tasteful but honest sex scenes.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid stepped out of the stench of the blood-filled barn and into the soul-cleansing sunlight. He turned his face up into the breeze, closing his eyes for just a moment to better sense it's fingers on his face. After nearly seven years of spending sixty to eighty hours every week swimming in the cesspool of criminal minds into which he was forced to forage, he had learned to carefully pick out the tiny moments in a day...healing moments that were helping him to keep his sanity intact. Today he must wallow again in the blood, the evil, the selfish compulsions of those creatures that society insisted upon naming "human". Today he would turn 29 years old.

"Dr. Reid, where are you all going to begin with this?" The local sheriff, Jim Bontrager, stopped beside Reid and removed his hat. His sparse hair clung damply to his head. He shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and looked out over the cornfields. "These people aren't going to talk to you, you know. They don't even believe in the legal system. They don't believe in punishment - an eye for an eye - like we "Englishers" do... they aren't going to talk. You just wait..."

Reid inhaled the aroma of green fields and black earth, breathing out slowly. "I hear that you grew up Amish, Sheriff?"

"Yes, Sir. Born right over in the next county."

"How'd you come to be ... outside the Amish?" If he could do anything, Reid could use charm and his gentle, well-bred demeanor to coax information out of a person and he knew it. Unsub, sheriff, whatever. Brunsager could be a good resource, best not to alienate him. Best to keep him close from the beginning. But Reid was not without compassion, and genuine curiosity.

Brunsager looked at the ground and shifted his weight. "Well, my father was killed in a farming accident with a horse - my mother went back to her people outside the Amish." He lifted his chin, "I was eight. My father's family kept me with them. I was sixteen before I left. Went to live with my mom and stayed."

Reid thought to ask why he never went back, but thought better of it. The world was full of stories for Dr. Reid, full of answers to a million questions. And his dogged pursuit of answers - any answers to any questions that entered his brilliant inquisitive mind - frequently left him sidetracked and unfocused. Hotch had taught him that. Stay on track, stay focused, get to the point of the matter, get the case solved.

Inside, the forensics team was finishing with the bodies. They would be placed into bags and taken out, put not into buggies but into ambulances for the trip out of the idyllic countryside in which they had lived peacefully until last night, and into the nearest city for full autopsy. A 40-year-old woman, hands callused from hard work, washing, mending, tilling and weeding a garden. She had died after a brutal sexual assault that had ended in her hanging. A younger woman, her sister, had died in much the same way, but had been strangled on the floor of the barn, where the wooden planks showed scratched evidence of her frantic last moments. A 14-year-old boy was missing, as was an 11-year-old girl.

"Reid, come with me." Special Agent David Rossi walked past Reid toward the farmhouse. His brows were furrowed, his pace determined. Reid recognized this demeanor - the one Rossi took on when he was particularly incensed by the crime. He knew Rossi would want Reid to talk to the survivor, because any time a young victim was involved, they always called on Reid. He couldn't remember how this had come about: it seemed only yesterday that he was the youngster, the incompetent rookie fresh from college, unable to hit a target, afraid of his gun, afraid of unsubs, shadows, the dark... and now somehow they expected him to be the one to draw out a victim. And to his great surprise, they were usually right.

Inside the darkened kitchen, the breeze through the open windows offered a solace from the summer heat. A young girl sat quietly on a wooden chair, hands folded neatly in her lap, head bowed. She wore the tradional "kapp" of the Amish on her head - the black of an unmarried girl. Leah Troyer was just 16. Although Reid heard not a sound from her, he saw that there was a dark spot on the lap of her dress where a steady drip of tears had fallen. An older Amish woman sat near the window, sewing. Listening.

Reid glanced at Rossi, then slowly picked up a chair and sat it down opposite the girl. He sat down and waited a moment before speaking - he could sense her tense when he neared her. He waited for her to understand that he was no enemy. "Hello, Leah."

She didn't respond, didn't look up. "Leah, my name is Spencer. I'm with the FBI - uh...do you know what the FBI is?"

"The police," she whispered.

"Well, yes, kind of...but I'm here to figure out who did this, that's all. Do you think you could help me? Can I ask you a few questions?"

She nodded, still looking down. Reid briefly wondered who was to be coming for her - who would take care of her tonight. Surely getting her away from this house, from the scene of the horrible past night - would be the first step in her healing - if she would ever hope to have healing. He had seen the bodies, the state of the barn. His experience told him clearly what those hours had been like - the sounds, the smell, the terror. The disruption of peace, the invasion of the integrity of the safety of a home.

"Leah, I know you hid in the woods, is that right?" Reid's mind raced - he knew the probable survivor's guilt that rendered her mute, along with shock. And how much was the Amish culture? He found himself uncomfortable, treading on foreign ground here. He knew that Amish women were reserved with male strangers, and particularly those outside the Amish culture. He wondered if her English was very practiced, knowing that the Amish learned it at school and on infrequent visits outside the community, but spoke a German dialect amongst themselves. He continued slowly, "Can you close your eyes, Leah? Can you do that for me? Can you remember waking up? What did you hear when you woke up?"

He waited. He heard Rossi clear his throat behind him. He heard cars starting their engines outside and cars arriving to the scene. This place that had been a quiet farm, where no automobiles came. He heard the bark of a dog, and realized the canine team had arrived to search the woods for the missing children. For a trail, or for bodies - whatever they could find.

"I heard Mama," came the whispered answer. Soft brown eyes, red-rimmed and wet, met his. "I heard Mama screaming."

Reid nodded and waited, his eyes fixed on hers, willing her gently to continue. "I heard voices. Men. The English." The new-found intimacy left her eyes at the words, and she looked down again. "English." Her voice came harder now. "I heard their boots on the floor. They sounded loud when they talked to Mama and Aunt Lydie. Loud and mean"

The kitchen door swung open behind him and Reid turned to see two Amish men enter. They nodded toward Rossi and Reid without smiling. "We come to take Leah now." The interview was over. Reid rose to shake their hands, knowing that it would be important to establish some relationship because Leah would need to talk more later, and it would be easier for her if her family was not fighting the FBI. The older woman rose and helped Leah gather a small suitcase of belongings and a shawl, and the four exited quickly without a farewell.

Reid watched from the window as the men helped the two women into the waiting buggy. The horse stomped impatiently. He saw the reins snap and the buggy started down the lane toward the county road. "There were at least two men," Rossi said aloud to himself. "Their shoes were heavy. There were some imprints taken from the dirt in the barn."

"Everyone here wears heavy workshoes," said Reid. "But...the women were here alone for three days, while the men were away. So if there were larger imprints...maybe..."

"Let's go see what the team found out," said Rossi. As they headed out into the farmyard, Reid watched several dairy cows in a corral which was attached to the barn. They grazed on feed and bellowed, curious at the comings and goings, but oblivious to the meaning of the commotion... life on this little piece of land would never be the same. Some memories change things forever.

**~/~**

By the time the dogs were coming back, dusk was falling. Reid looked out at the mist gathering and hanging above the July corn crop, and listened to the cicadas in the fields, startled by the loudness of their buzzing. He had grown up in the city, in Las Vegas, and he had sometimes wondered if he would have been better off somewhere else . . somewhere quieter. He envied these people their lifestyle. He smelled the heaviness of the damp earth as cooler air moved in, and heard the coo of mourning doves. He watched a nighthawk dive for insects in the sky above the barn, and thought of Gideon and his obsession with birds. Gideon. . who had been the closest to a father Reid had ever had. .. the second father who had abandonned him. And here he was, a man, and he often felt himself a poor excuse for one. He had his intellect and a good knowledge of social etiquette, but he felt his face flush as he thought of his frequent social faux-pas. He knew he lacked social common sense. Worst of all, he lacked the common sense to approach a woman without making a fool of himself.

And so on this night Spencer Reid sat on the steps of the Amish farm house, and pushed away feelings of loneliness. He was watching one more crime scene being analyzed, confident in his skill as a behavioral analyst, a job he loved - and terrified for the future of his personal life. He watched as a young Amish man fed the livestock and bedded them down for the night...a skill set that he himself little understood, despite all his sophistication and schooling. He looked at a buggy parked alongside the barn, and wondered how one went about harnessing a horse to it. He gazed at the household vegetable garden and wondered how one kept insects from eating everything that grew there, and still harvested enough to can for the winter - enough to feed a large Amish family. He wondered if anyone like him existed in their world, any man so inept, so unable to establish ties. He had been so cheated as a child - a father who ran, a mother consumed by the demons of mental illness. And now so cheated of a love, a family, and . . he hardly dared to imagine it - a child of his own. He was 29 this day, and his heart hurt.

Reid felt his eyes burn and stood up, ashamed of himself for this self-pity. He had known love. .. his mother had loved him fiercely. And still did, in her more lucid moments. He had known a mother's absolute adoration. Surely that was something. That was a lot.

Reid watched Hotch outside the barn, talking on the phone. They would soon return to the little police station in town for the last pow-wow of the day. He was looking forward to hearing what the dogs had picked up if anything. He thought of young Leah, and hoped she could sleep this night. His instinct told him she had not been entirely forthcoming, that there was something she couldn't bring herself to utter in the conversation in the kitchen. If only he had had twenty more minutes with her. Perhaps without Rossi there.. without another man listening.

He watched Morgan walking across the nearby field with a dog-handler and dog. That was one thing he could do better than Morgan - talk to a child, talk to a teenager, or an adult female victim. Reid was aware of his androgynous appearance, his soft voice, his non-threatening demeanor. Morgan had made fun of it at first, but over time they had all come to understand that Reid could bring the truth out of any victim. . .. simply because of his lack of manliness, of any appearance of a threat. At least he was good at that.

"Hey, Reid!" Morgan was calling, "You driving?" A joke between them. .. Reid didn't like to drive. He liked to be driven. He found the opportunity to gaze absently out the window of a moving car, without the responsibility of being behind the wheel, meditative.

Reid stood and brushed the back of his trousers off. He walked down the steps to meet Morgan and the handler. To his amazement, a young woman was attached to the end of the leash of a very large dog. He was startled by the openness of her face, the warmth in her eyes - something he often noticed about the women in small towns. But this face was. . particularly lovely. Even in the dimming light of the day, he saw the piercing blue-gray of her eyes. And as was his custom, he averted his own eyes as he reached for her outstretched hand in greeting. "Dr. Reid. Uh. . Spencer Reid. That's uh. . . a big dog."

"This is Griff. Griffon. He's a Malinois. Belgian breed." she scratched the back of Griff's neck. "He's very sweet" she laughed quietly. "And very smart. . smarter than I am." She smiled up at Reid. He found his mind racing to say something. Felt his face flushing. He was glad it was dark.

"Come on Pretty Boy, let's go" Morgan said. "Miss Bennett . . Aubrey. .. nice to meet you. Maybe we'll see you again..." Morgan winked.

The young woman returned Morgan's smile as she struggled to hold the dog quiet, "I hope so," she said.

Reid waved his hand to her in farewell, cleared his throat nervously, and followed Morgan to the car, painfully aware that her gaze followed them as they left. He was relieved to slide into the SUV.

"Now that is a young lady that could prove useful in this investigation," Morgan said as he turned the key in the ignition, "She is the Sheriff's niece, and wrote a thesis on the Amish."

"So you walked across the field and now you know her life story?" Reid teased without laughing, feeling a little prickly with jealousy at Morgan's ease with the woman.

"No, just the important parts for now." Morgan winked over at Reid, grinning, "I'll learn the rest later..."

Reid rolled his eyes in the darkness, and looked out at the darkened fields. The moon was yellow and hanging low over the quiet farms. They slowed behind the red reflector on the back of a buggy, Morgan swinging far left around so as not to spook the horse. When they left the county road finally and turned onto the state highway, Reid heard the tires leave the gravel and enter the quiet of the paved road again. He felt a tinge of sadness at the thought of civilization moving nearer again. Somehow the day. . the atmosphere of the farm, in spite of the horror of the murders there. . . had changed him. He didn't understand quite how yet. It was as if his heart had understood something that his mind hadn't quite yet processed.

"Where are we going?" he asked as the SUV missed the turn toward the police station. "Aren't we supposed to meet..."

"No, Kiddo, we're meeting for pizza. You haven't had your BIRTHDAY yet!"

Reid settled back into the seat, feeling guilty for his earlier pang of jealousy toward Morgan. He knew that Morgan had his back, not just in the field but anywhere. Morgan was the big brother he never had. The one he had now. The SUV drove slowly through the darkness through the quiet streets of Youngstown and Reid's heart was full of affection for his colleagues...his only real family. And full of thoughts of the things this day had held - the despair-filled eyes of a young Amish girl, the smell of butchered women in a barn, the barking of the search dogs, and the terrifying juxtaposition of all this against the peace of the dusk in an Amish field, and the blue-gray eyes of Aubrey Bennett.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"Next year we're going up in a hot air balloon, Reid," said Morgan as they drove along the gravel road that led back to the Amish farmland.

"Yeah, you enjoy that Morgan..." Reid sipped his coffee and regretted lying awake the night before. He didn't like to take sleeping pills, and herbals didn't take. He had been a prisoner of his racing thoughts for hours, finally surrendering to a blissful three hours of slumber.

"Ah no! You're going Kiddo! Thirtieth! Gotta go big!"

"We could just tie him in it...let it go," smiled Agent Emily Prentiss from the back seat. She and Agent Jennifer "J.J." Jureau exchanged a bemused look.

"Ha ha ha!" Reid retorted with a fake laugh. "I'll be taking a vacation that week."

The rolling Wisconsin farmland had become bright green from a nourishing midnight rain. White Amish houses dotted the landscape here and there - their additions and wings stuck on seemingly haphazardly to accommodate generations of family. No tire tracks marred the lanes, no sign of combines decorated the farmyards. Power lines were scarce. And occasional phone booth appeared, set out alone at the edge of a field to be used only in case of emergency.

"Why don't they use electricity?" Morgan mused, "Why not put the phone in the damn house?"

"They aren't against electricity and phones," Reid heard himself explaining, "they believe that things like that hurt the family life...like cars make it easy to travel away from home too often, and TV distracts, and phones, computers..."

"Everything that makes a family want to spend time away from each other..." said Prentiss thoughtfully, looking at the men working in the fields, a team of draft horses pulling their mechanized tiller. They kept their straw hats on, even while working. The married men grew beards with no mustache, the younger unmarried men clean-shaven. Their hair grew to the bottom of their ears and sometimes longer, giving them an old-fashioned, wild appearance even beyond the dark trousers and suspenders. The bright blue of their shirts competed with the blue of the sky. "I've seen them wear black hats sometimes..." she continued.

"For formal dress and Sundays," said Reid with his usual authoritative tone, "the straw hats are cooler for summer."

Hotch and Rossi were waiting in the driveway at the farm of Amos Yoder when they pulled into the lane. Hotch had parked away from the house and walked the rest of the way in, leaving the car a respectful distance away from the house. He had brought someone with him from town, as the agents could tell by the non-Amish dress. As they rolled closer, they realized it was Aubrey Bennett. Her dog Griff was with them.

"Hello again," she said to Morgan as the four walked up the lane. "I didn't meet you last night," she said to J.J., and stepped forward to shake Agent Jureau's' hand. Reid stood back nervously, and hoped Hotch would get down to business before there was any uncomfortable silence amongst the group. As he glance away from Aubrey toward the house and grounds, he noticed that the sunlight rendered her hair a dark reddish auburn. The lack of purple tint told him it was her natural color. He wondered how rare that was statistically in the American Midwestern population - true redheads. And hers wasn't that showy fiery-red, or orangey-red, but rather it was deep brown-red. Unusual.

He forced himself to walk away from the group and study the fields between this house and that of the Troyer farm where they were the night before. Maybe two miles. And this was the nearest to that farm. "A car could have easily taken those kids, and no one would have noticed. It's far between households..." he said loudly over his shoulder.

"But why?" Rossi repeated their question from over dinner the night before, "Why kill the adults and take the children?" The dogs had followed a trail across the fields, through a stand of oak trees, and onto a quiet part of the county road, where they had abruptly lost the scent. No trace of clothing, no stray shoe, nothing had been found, although police-led search teams of volunteers still walked the fields this morning in hopes of finding any scrap, any clue of what had befallen the missing children. No one spoke aloud of their first educated guess - not in front of Aubrey - that the kids had been taken by pedophiles. Disappearing into the wide Wisconsin countryside by night, in the custody of practiced, expert kidnappers, they might never be found now. It made more sense now to hunt for the murderers than to focus on a hunt for missing kids, regardless of how desperate the community was to find them.

"Everything is weird this morning," Aubrey was saying, hugging herself against an imaginary morning chill, "everyone in town...they feel a kinship to these people. These kids could be anyone's. Those women..." she trailed off, unable to speak any more of the horror aloud.

"I brought Miss Bennett here to guide us," Hotch said, "She can help us understand these people. It's important not to alienate them. We need them to talk."

"And that won't be easy.." added Rossi.

"Reid, Mr. Yoder has agreed to let you speak to Leah. The other man you met last night is his son-in-law, Leah's father. I think you may have to talk to her with them in the room, but we'll try to get them out of the house. Emily, you go in with Reid. If you need Miss Bennett...she is already familiar to the family."

Reid walked beside Prentiss up the porch steps, and knocked softly on the door. Their eyes met nervously, and Reid offered a weak smile. The door opened and they were met by the pleasant, quiet face of the woman from last night who sat sewing while they talked. "Hello," she said, and smiled at Prentiss. "Come in, come in."

The large kitchen was cool and smelled of woodsmoke and bacon. "I have coffee," the woman said. "Leah!" she called up the stairs.

"Uh. .. I love coffee!" said Reid enthusiastically. Prentiss looked at him sharply, and he wondered if he had somehow violated some minute rule of etiquette. They nervously sat down at the table.

Leah entered with her grandfather on her heels. She didn't greet the agents, but went about helping fetch the coffee, unbidden. Reid noticed her eyes were swollen but dry, her cheeks chapped from salt. She'd had a rough night. Cookies were placed before them, and cream and sugar. Mrs. Yoder placed two large mugs of coffee before them, and Leah slid into a chair across from them. Mr. Yoder stood by, hovering at the side of the room, watching silently. Reid tried to ignore his presence.

"Leah," he began gently, "I know you are very tired." He paused. "It's very important that you try to remember everything you can for us. So that we can catch the people who did this and who have your sister and brother. Can you try for me?"

"She doesn't remember," stated Mr. Yoder flatly. The ensuing silence was deafening. Reid heard Prentiss sipping her coffee beside him, her breathing irregular. He looked at the girl, his eyes falling on her hands which lay folded on the table. They were trembling. The trembling was faint, but he saw it, running up her arms to her shoulders. She refused to meet his eyes.

"Leah," he said again gently,"what happened when you ran into the woods? How did you leave without them seeing you? Did you see them?" He paused again, giving her space to answer. Space to calm herself.

Suddenly she made a sound, but it wasn't a word. It was a barely stifled sob. She raised her eyes to her grandfather, glassy with fatigue and new tears.

"That is enough!" Amos Yoder bellowed, not moving from his stance by the wall. "This will not help to find my grandchildren! Why are you not out searching for them? This talk is not going to help!"

"Mr. Yoder," said Prentiss slowly and firmly, "We need to know more about the men who did this so that we know where to look. If we find them, we can find your grandchildren."

Reid bit his tongue. _But we don't know if they will be found alive..._ He chose, as he often did, to trust Prentiss'judgment. "You need to let Leah try to remember everything she can to help us," she continued.

"I will not," the old man answered firmly. "She has suffered enough. You should do your job and go out and find my grandchildren." He then addressed Leah in their language and she rose and left the kitchen. Without another word, he strode to the kitchen door and went outside.

Reid and Prentiss sat through a few moments of awkward silence with Mrs. Yoder, and Reid calmly sipped his coffee and munched a cookie. "My husband is only concerned for our Leah," said the Amish woman, and forced an embarrassed smile. "We are very...we have not had sleep last night. He is tired. He is a good man." She rose to tend to dishes in the sink.

Prentiss slowly stood and pulled Reid up by the sleeve. "We appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Yoder. We understand that this is difficult." Reid stuffed two cookies into his pocket before Mrs. Yoder turned back to them, "Perhaps Leah will have something to say later," she offered.

"Yes, of course."

Reid and Prentiss walked out into the sunshine discouraged. Hotch would be disappointed in their failed effort to glean more information from the girl. But the old man was making it impossible. And there seemed to be no way to speak to her alone.

J.J. and Aubrey were standing in the yard speaking to one another and Reid and Prentiss joined them. Hotch and Rossi walked toward them from the barn, where they had been speaking to an angry Mr. Yoder. "He's hiding something," said Hotch.

"What makes you say that?" asked Reid.

"Just a feeling. He's way too defensive."

"You don't think that is just... because he is Amish?"

Suddenly Aubrey gave Griff a loud "Lie Down!Stay!," broke from the group and ran down the lane. A buggy had turned into the lane, and the horse had begun to balk when he saw the automobiles - an unfamiliar site in a familiar lane. The driver - Leah's father - tried to force the horse to pass, but he began to back up. Several children inside cried out in alarm. Aubrey stopped in front of the frightened animal and then slowly approached him from the side, speaking softly, and catching the reins. She said something to Ezra Troyer, and he nodded. Aubrey slowly led the horse and buggy past the cars. Griff, sensing the command had expired, happily trotted toward her.

"I'm sorry," said Hotch, approaching Troyer as he hopped out of the buggy, and turned to lift a child down. "I didn't think about the horses."

"No problem," answered the man, without a smile.

"We tried to speak to Leah," continued Hotch. "But your father-in-law was not comfortable enough to allow her to speak to us freely."

Troyer turned to face Hotch. "He might know best," he said. Then he turned and strode toward the barn.

Hotch breathed out slowly, a sigh of exasperation. "All right, let's regroup. Let's go back to the station and look at what we have."

Morgan joked with Aubrey as he walked back down the lane with her toward the parked SUV's. Reid watched the braid that held back her hair, marveling at its color, and wondered what her hair smelled like. He imagined Morgan would know, soon enough.

~~/~~

Waiting for lab results was always maddening. The forensics team had recovered hair, fiber, saliva and seminal samples from the bodies of the two murdered women. Processing these for possible identification took time, and if the owners of the samples weren't in any database, the time was ultimately wasted. Penelope Garcia had checked every record in Wisconsin for names of possible serial pedophiles. But no one had seemed to be a likely culprit. This was further narrowed to those young enough, mobile enough, and connected enough to organize a kipnapping - and also murder any protective adults who were in the way. Garcia had come up with next to nothing.

Each member of the team coped with these down times in their own ways. It was part of the job, part of keeping one's bearings, keeping sane. Prentiss donned shorts and explored the village at a steady running pace. JJ sorted photos of her toddler Henry into a scrapbook, complete with meticulous dates and memories of his every accomplishment. Rossi wrote. Hotch read. Morgan chatted up the local female shopkeepers, collecting the phone numbers of the most attractive. Reid normally inhaled a foreign book, but today he was exhausted.

The team discussed over lunch the futility of what they had gathered thus far. Aubrey answered various questions about the Amish culture. She had grown fascinated by it early in life, and at thirteen years of age had finally been informed that her uncle grew up in an Amish household. A gold mine - right before her eyes! She had applied to college at a Pennsylvania school, so that she could attend classes and achieve a certification in Amish studies. Her thesis for the program had discussed the rarity of violence and crime amongst the Amish, and the reasons for this phenomenon. The rare cases of violent domestic crimes had been nationally publicized and could be counted on one hand. A few were horrific. Although she had to visit the details of those cases for her studies, Aubrey was more interested in why these things didn't occur more often...in what the Amish were doing right.

Sometimes, she had thought about the good fortune of those women born into that quiet life, and how impossible it would be for a single women to enter it from the outside. A woman with no man to support her, no family within the Amish community, would have no hope of surviving. The family connections, the marriages were vital to the survival of individuals within the community. Being born into the Amish way of life guaranteed safety. Even the elderly and infirm and disabled were cared for by the community, never the outside. No one was left alone to starve, or even know loneliness. Every individual was expected to conform, to follow God's laws, but every individual mattered. No one was abandoned. Even in the practice of banning - a punishment only inflicted on the already baptized (the Amish were baptized as adults, and by choice) - was in Amish eyes an act of tough love. The hope was always that the lost one would return to God's laws and the embrace of the community and loved ones.

Aubrey often watched the traffic in town, listened to the buzz of computers, the singing of cell-phones, televisions, various motors and engines. Always the noise of the modern lifestyle. And in her deepest soul she resented being on the outside of the Amish. But then she picked up her violin, or popped in a CD, and knew there were some things she was grateful to have known in her life, things she would have never been able to give up... even for an Amish man. She never shared these thoughts with anyone...she knew they were too ridiculous. And she could never find adequate words.

Aubrey lived alone with Griffon. She had been orphaned when a small child, when her parents died in a storm on a Wisconsin lake. A fishing trip gone bad. She didn't remember them. She had been taken in by an elderly couple in town, who were close to her parents - sort of surrogate parents to her parents. She had been raised in a generous Christian home, simply and gently, with unrelenting love. She knew she had much for which to be always grateful. Edith had passed away from cancer when Aubrey was 22, and William the next year followed her, his broken heart giving out.

Aubrey had attended graduate school, putting aside her grief, clinging to the dignity of a fierce self-composure. One semester she found herself the subject of the attention of a young history professor. John was pleasant, handsome enough, fearless and well-traveled. He taught her things, he courted her with open enthusiastic determination. It didn't occur to him she would hold out forever, and it didn't occur to her that she should.

Three years later, she had found herself with a history degree, a budding writing career, and a full-time job training search and rescue dogs. And yet, nothing in her life made sense. She had grown to hate the man she lived with, and to hate herself. Breaking away from John had been the toughest thing she had ever done. . more than earning the degree, more than all the death and loss and sorrow in her life. Walking away from him had been torturous, not because she cared for him, God knows, but because it all was safely familiar, and the step into a life of intentional solitude was terrifying. Alone once more - as seemed to be her curse and her place in life. The relationship had left her with scars that made her determined to live without men, without their hands or their mouths on her. These things were now disgusting. She wondered sometimes how other women enjoyed those things...how it was that she came to be so... defective.

This night, Aubrey walked across the local park with Griffon and wondered how these missing children might ever be found. She had seen the looks the FBI people gave one another, heard the exhaustion in their voices. She knew it didn't look hopeful. And she knew that the Amish were not helping.

She had reached the center of downtown and was turned to start home again, when she heard a voice call her name. Derek Morgan was waving to her from the opposite side of the steet. He trotted across the meet her.

"Hi Pretty Lady. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, with you all, four hours ago, remember?" She smiled.

Griffon sniffed Derek's pants and licked his hand. "Well then. How about a drink?"

Aubrey looked down at Griffon, smiling softly, and started to make an excuse.

"Come on! Tomorrow something will come up and we will all have to be back on the case. Let's have some fun."

"Agent Morgan, I'm not ... I don't really get into that sort of fun." She cocked her head at him and smirked a smile. He wasn't backing down. "One drink, then I need to get home."

"Done! Come on!"

~~/~~

Three hours later, Aubrey and Agent Morgan stepped out of "Youngstown's Only Saloon," one of three bars in town. Aubrey stooped to untie Griff from his lamp post, from which he had been greeting various passers-by and enjoying himself thoroughly. His master had been seated by a window and watched him as she listened to Morgan's friendly banter, and marveled at the sheer confidence of the man. It never occurred to him that she wouldn't be interested, a character trait that reminded her of John, and thoroughly unsettled her. But she did appreciate a few hours of company, and for all she knew he was not so selfish a lover as John had been.

Morgan was feeling the ale and the warm night air, and cheerily offered to walk her home.

"It's all right," she said, "Griffon will take care of me, really."

Morgan opened his mouth to offer an argument, but stopped, gazing past her shoulder as someone approached. "Reid! What are you doing out here? It's eleven o'clock."

Reid nodded briefly to Aubrey as she turned to look at him. "I do take walks, Morgan." He summed up the situation quickly. Apparently, Morgan wasn't wasting any time. "I'm just going back to the hotel now." He looked at Aubrey, again startled by the intensity of her eyes, even here in the light of a streetlamp. He forced himself to look away. "Bye," and walked away. "See you tomorrow Morgan," he called back.

Morgan chuckled and shook his head. "Crazy kid."

"Why do you say that?" Aubrey allowed him to fall into step beside her as she started to head toward home.

"He lives in his own world," Morgan smiled,"Good kid. Good heart. He's a genius. Not in the same place as the rest of us." He laughed again.

As they walked, Aubrey thought about the encounter with Reid, and tried to occasionally keep up with Morgan's chatter out of politeness. She knew she was being pursued, and she didn't find any pleasure in it. Men called her beautiful behind her back, she knew. She knew because other women joked about it, or resented her for it. They didn't know the unwelcome attention it brought. The rude comments under a man's breath as he passed her on the street, the humiliation of trying to ask for help at the hardware store while the male clerk scanned her figure head to toe and neglected to meet her eyes. The fear of living alone before she found Griffon. No, Morgan's type were a dime a dozen. She had known one well. She had slept with one, let him touch her. And she wasn't interested now.

It surprised her when her mind keep going back to Spencer Reid. Quiet, soft-spoken, solitary Spencer. She wondered what he thought about, if he ever thought about women, thought about her. Maybe he was gay. He was so pretty, almost effeminate, but there was something very male behind his gaze. His hair had fallen into his eyes when he spoke to them in front of the bar, and he had brushed it back with a practiced motion, and quickly dropped his eyes from hers. And now she remembered that she had felt herself blush as he did.

When they reached her house, Morgan took the key from her hand and leaned over her to unlock the door and push it open. She felt the hair rise on her neck as he did. His eyes scanned the interior before he stepped back to let her pass. She knew he wanted an invitation and felt mildly annoyed by it. She forced her warmest smile, "Thank you, Agent Morgan. It was so nice to ... spend a few hours with you."

Derek's eyes searched hers for a hint of hesitation and he didn't find it. He gave in. "Goodnight, Miss Bennett" he smiled. He walked merrily toward the sidewalk again, determined that next time he wouldn't be leaving her at the door.

Aubrey locked and chained the door, watched him walk down the sidewalk, and chuckled to herself. An hour later she lay in bed unable to sleep. She leaned over and fished around in the dark for earphones, and switched on Mozart. She lay back and closed her eyes, trying to let the music seep into her tense muscles, and fought to keep Spencer Reid's face out of her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Dr. Reid loosened the tie around his neck as he strode across the parking lot of the local hardware store; he had abandoned his jacket before mid-morning, and his customary decorum along with it. Being from Las Vegas, he had long ago become comfortable with extremes of heat in the summer, but the damp, heavy air of the Midwest was something he was not prepared for...the sweat hung on his body and under his hair; it had made him lethargic and cranky the minute he woke up. He figured that keeping busy would keep his mind off the heat, and the team was getting antsy - no one had any clue where to look next, and forensics results were slow.

He had nearly lost his mind through the morning. The entire town was shut down and at the local churches, apparently. He had tried to locate his colleagues but found everyone sleeping in, except Prentiss, who was out running, and J.J. who had gone to church. She had invited him along, but he wasn't in the mood to spend two hours being polite to people he didn't know and shaking hands with dozens of strangers simply because he was there. Crowds had always made him nervous. So he had spent some time in the local cafe, with a plate of waffles and several mugs of coffee, keeping company with his notepad and a motherly waitress who kept the coffee coming along with friendly chatter. She had told him that the hardware store was open late the night of the kidnapping.

He noticed several three-sided sheds with stalls running along the edge of the lot, inside which several buggies stood - the horses grateful to be out of the afternoon sun. He snapped a photo with his cell-phone and laughed softly at himself for being such a tourist. In front of the entrance, another buggy awaited the owner. Reid stepped carefully around the front of horse, who waited until the young man was directly in front of his nose before snorting loudly, causing Ried to jump. He glanced around, embarrassed.

Inside, more surprises met his eyes...aisles of tack for harnesses, feed buckets, ropes, various things with which he was not familiar, things particular to an agrarian way of life, close to the earth, livestock, and horse-drawn vehicles. Things never seen in a hardware store in Quantico. The local population of shoppers mingled easily with the dark-clad Amish men in the store, each offering a polite greeting when required. Notices and hand-made signs were tacked to a large cork-covered wall, advertising hay, shoeing, buggy repairs, horses for sale.

A clerk behind the register noticed Reid surveying the scene. "Can I help you, Sir?" he asked as he handed a bag to an elderly man and wished him a good day.

Reid removed his badge from the pocket of his shirt and held it up before him. "I'm Dr. Reid, I'm with the FBI..."

The clerk came around from behind the counter to greet Dr. Reid with a handshake. "Tom Wilson, Dr. Reid. What can I do for you?"

"I need to ask you a few questions about ... the other night? Was anyone here after 8:00 PM, Mr. Wilson?"

"It was Friday - I was here. People come in for feed and supplies late, for the weekend. I keep the door open if I can stand it, as long as I'm here."

"Did anyone come in who wasn't from around here?"

"Well, I don't think so," Tom thought as he scratched his head,"I was occupied with some inventory. I wasn't watching. I have a kid who works here part-time, and he might have helped someone."

"Do you remember anyone buying a lot of rope, or anything unusual?"

Tom laughed. "Rope? Everyone is always buying rope!" Reid shifted his weight, thinking that he was very far out of his element, and he was not as sure of himself as usual, not here in this rural atmosphere. He needed a farmer in his pocket to keep him from making a fool of himself during an interview.

"Wait!" Tom said suddenly. "There is something." He glanced around at the customers in the store. "Excuse me for a moment." He disappeared briefly, during which time Reid felt himself closely observed by several Amish men. He busied himself with reading the notice board, pretending not to notice.

Tom returned with another clerk, who stepped behind the counter. "You have time for a coffee, Dr. Reid? Let's step across to the cafe."

Reid was always game for more coffee, but he was becoming as familiar with the inside of the cafe as he was with his own apartment. "Sure."

"Hello Honey," smiled his favorite waitress when he walked in behind Tom, "You back for lunch?" She seated them in a quiet corner at Tom's request, and before she had brought the coffee pot, Tom settled right into the conversation. "Dr. Reid, there is an odd thing. I don't know if it has anything to do with those kids disappearing, but maybe you need to know about it. You see, there was a bit of thing a few years back..." he stopped and smiled as Loretta poured their coffee, and thanked her. He watched her walk away before continuing, "The Amish are a private people, so it's difficult to talk about because I don't know how much is conjecture." He poured cream into his coffee and stirred it thoughtfully. "And I want to be fair."

Reid watched Tom's face: a pleasant man, a moral man, trying to paint an accurate view of his neighbors. He imagined Tom was well-liked in town, and his occupation put him in a position to be well-acquainted with most people - with most of the male population anyway, within and without the Amish community. "Anything you can share, Mr. Wilson, could potentially help our investigation."

"Well, there was a problem with an Amish man. He was ... he seemed to be a bit off. A bit of a temper, which you rarely see with those people. There were stories that he was making a lot of trouble for them. They tried to get him some help but didn't go too far because they don't really trust outsiders. Anyhow, he finally left, is what I heard, and moved away somewhere. Always wondered about that. .. him being Amish and all. Where he went."

Tom looked hard at Spencer and leaned into the table, "And that's what I want to say here. On Thursday he shows up in the store, after all that time. It's been maybe two and a half, three years since he left. I was surprised to see it."

Reid wracked his brain to think of any way this could be related to the crime. He doubted it was, and regretted that Tom's kindness would go unrewarded. But they were looking for at least two non-Amish men. Leah had confirmed that. "What is this Amish man's name, Mr. Wilson?"

Tom laughed aloud before answering, "Well, they all have about eight or ten last names around here - they are all related. And some of them have the same name. But this man is one Jacob Yoder."

Reid's brows furrowed as he thought, "Is he any relation to Amos Yoder?"

"Might be. . like I said they are all related somehow. And Yoder is like Smith with the Amish."

~~/~~

An hour later, Reid sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, anticipating the turn onto the gravel County Road T that led to the center of the Amish area. After talking to Tom Wilson earlier, he had immediately phoned Hotch: he wanted to find out more about how the Amish community was connected, and see if there was anything to the story of Jacob Yoder's return. Although he had wanted company and moral support, Hotch and Rossi were busy discussing another case, and Hotch suggested that Reid take J.J. out to the farms for rest of the day and see what they could learn. After some thought, Reid thought that Hotch's might be the best idea...Reid knew that he and J.J. were about as non-threatening as they could get, if a little out-of-place in Amish country. In his case, very out-of-place. But he still felt drawn to the remoteness and quiet of the Amish world, and found its history and culture intellectually appealing.

He had just removed his tie and folded it neatly before placing it in the glove compartment, when they came upon a large group of young men and boys walking in the road. They waved as the automobile crawled by, J.J. taking care not to kick up too much dust onto them. Spencer returned their smiles shyly, feeling that the SUV was an intrusion into their world somehow. "Why are there so many of them together I wonder," asked J.J. more to herself than to Reid. Further down the road, they passed a large house that seemed to have an impromptu porch gathering. Several of the crowd of Amish faces turned to watch the SUV drive slowly by. Reid shifted in the car seat and felt himself growing nervous. During the two previous visits into this otherworldly place, there was never more than a few of the Amish together in any one place, but today something was different. There were large groups gathered.

J.J. came to a crossroads and stopped, looking at Reid. "Which way?" Reid looked down to study a local map spread across his lap, "Just a minute..I don't know if all these little roads are on here..."

"I'll go left," laughed J.J. Reid sighed. He loved her company - J.J. was full of fun, something Reid indulged in occasionally himself. The years had passed without his having much opportunity in life to truly play. J.J.'s presence reminded him of that. Once, he had dressed in Halloween costume and gone into the BAU with bags of candy. J.J. had been the one to help him hand it out, and demand a mask of her own. Truth be told, he had been a little disappointed when she took up with her husband. He had always wished...but he knew she had never been interested in him. Most women weren't. He didn't blame them - what did he have to offer? Morgan said he was "pretty" in jest, but Reid knew there was a bit of something like jealousy behind the words. The first few times Morgan called him that word, Reid had gone home to stand in front of the mirror for long periods of time, sizing up his inadequacies. The exercise made him wince. His slenderness bordered on emaciation. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles that never seemed to go away. His longish hair was - despite Prentiss' pronouncement that she would kill to have hair like it - impossible, falling into his face much of the time. But if he cut it, he looked like a child, and that was the ultimate in appearance flaws to avoid for Spencer Reid. "Twenty-nine going on twelve," he whispered to himself in disgust.

"What did you say?" J.J.'s voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Oh look," she said before he could answer, and pointed to the right. In the large front yard of a white Amish house stood three little girls with an armful of rabbits. They were all barefooted, and without the customary headgear. Their golden hair had been neatly tied up into buns and braids, but hours of play and breeze had loosened it. They waved as the SUV passed, and a young woman walked quickly across the year to them, her eyes suspiciously upon the vehicle. J.J. returned the wave, and the woman smiled and waved back.

After another half a mile - easily five minutes of slow travel on the gravel road - the houses were suddenly closer together and closer to the road. In between a few scattered buildings appeared - a general store, a blacksmith. Reid was studying the map between bewildered glances around them, "There is no town here. It isn't HERE. Why is it not on the map?"

"It's all Amish, Spence, look. Maybe they don't care to be found on a map." J.J. slowly pulled to the side of the road and stopped. "Should we see who will talk to us?" J.J. was fairly giddy with the adventure of it all, and her forced tone of professionalism wasn't suppressing it. It occurred to Reid that J.J. hadn't had the experience of an intimate conversation with the Amish at this point. She had no idea the disappointment awaiting her as they got out of the SUV.

A hand-lettered sign stood in front of one house. Stuck into the ground by the post it was tied to, it advertised fresh eggs. "Come on!" said J.J. and started up the dirt driveway. Reid followed nervously, noticing that the man working beside the barn had stopped what he was doing to stand up and watch. A small woman exited the house before they had time to knock. She greeted them shyly only after J.J. enthused, "Hi! We were interested in some eggs!" She did not offer her hand, and seemed not to notice when J.J. did.

Half an hour later they were walking down the street with a box of 13 eggs, having paid the woman $3 for them after she asked for just $1. "Wow," J.J. was laughing, "What was HE so nervous about?" They had learned from the conversation that no one would be working on a Sunday here, and that on alternate Sundays, everyone was out socializing rather than at a church service, so they were stuck with speaking to whomever they might encounter as they drove around, and were likely to find big groups. After shaking his hand and commenting on the enormous size and strength of the draft horses in the corral, Reid had felt some rapport with the stone-faced man. He had then asked about Jacob Yoder. "Do you know him?"

"Yah." The man uttered and looked at his horses.

"Does he. .. does he live around here?"

"No."

"Sir, I am interested in talking to him. Do you know where I could find him?"

The Amish man's face slowly turned to Reid's. "He is the son of Amos Yoder. You should ask Amos."

Reid's heart skipped. He hadn't realize the connection would be so close. He was grateful for the tidbit and was eager to share it with the others - finally a small puzzle piece to offer. "Thank you, " he had said, and had offered his hand again to the man. "Come on J.J."

Surprised and amused by the command in Reid's tone, J.J. shrugged and smiled at the Amish woman, and followed him down the lane.

~~/~~

Near 6:30 pm that evening, as the shadows grew long over the Youngstown streets, the clip clop of a horse was heard and a buggy pulled up in front of the doors of the police station. Amos Yoder and Ezra Troyer hopped out and went into the station, where the BAU team waited to interview Yoder.

When they entered the lobby, Amos walked past agents Rossi and Hotchner and stopped before Dr. Reid. "Am I to be jailed?" he demanded. Troyer stood behind him silently, head down, hat on.

As they often did, Reid's fine features dramatically betrayed his astonishment at the question. "Uh..no Mr. Yoder. You aren't being arrested for anything. We just want to speak with you."

"Let's go into the other room," offered Rossi and gestured for the Amish men to step to the back of the station where an interrogation room was set up.

Once they were seated, Hotch got right to the point. "Your son, Jacob, has recently returned from a long absence."

Yoder sat silent, arms folded, and stared back at Hotch.

"These are his children who were taken."

Yoder continued to stare in silence, but Hotch was also a stubborn man. He waited, and won.

"Yah. Jacob is my son."

"Where is he? If you had been forthcoming we would be talking to him right now instead of you."

Reid, Morgan and Prentiss stood in the adjacent room where they watched the interview through a one-way glass. "I called the kids her brother and sister," said Reid.

Prentiss glanced at Morgan and back at Reid, "What?"

"I feel like an idiot. I assumed they were siblings."

Prentiss stifled a smile, "I don't think that mattered, Reid."

"No wonder she couldn't trust me," Reid continued, "I don't even understand the family dynamics."

Hotch was continuing to pry information from a reluctant Amos Yoder. "Where is your son? Mr. Yoder, we know that two English men killed the women in your family - your daughter and your daughter-in-law.. But we need to speak to Jacob, to know whether he has knowledge of the whereabouts of your grandchildren."

"Jacob is not here."

"He was seen in town two days ago, ."

"Jacob is not here."

Reid abruptly opened the door between the rooms and joined Hotch, who looked up, surprised. Hotch had learned over six years to trust Reid's instincts. If his quirkiness had initially suggested he lacked understanding, that suggestion had proven to be deceptive. Hotch had to admit to himself that the kid often picked up on things the rest of the team didn't. And he was at his wit's end with Amos Yoder.

Reid quietly pulled up a chair and sat down. "Mr. Yoder, we need to find your grandchildren," he said in slow, polite, deliberate tones,"And we also need to find out who killed the women in your family. We think Jacob's story may help us do that. Why did he leave?"

Yoder ignored the immediate question and stated,"We don't believe in vengeance. Even the vengeance of the state. We believe in forgiveness. You will not find the killers unless God wills it. They are not important."

Reid furrowed his brow, digesting this information. "But you want us to find your grandchildren, don't you Mr. Yoder." He waited. "Mr. Yoder, where is Jacob?"

"Jacob is their father. If they are with him, they are safe."

"But you don't KNOW that they are with him, do you?"

Amos Yoder sighed then, a long, weary sigh. "No."

~~/~~

When Hotch watched the buggy pull back onto the highway twenty minutes later, he was tired too. This case was impossible. The Amish were a stone wall. He didn't understand them, their reluctance to communicate, their philosophy of life. He silently scoffed at the romance with which J.J. and Prentiss discussed the backward lives of these people. Surely the Amish had dark secrets like anyone else. He could bet that Amos Yoder did. He could almost smell it. Reid had only been able to skim the surface.

But as Reid started down the street toward the hotel, he was more optimistic than was Hotch. Spencer had declined Morgan's offer for a ride, preferring to walk and mull over the day. The Amish were drawing him in, stimulating his interest. He was frustrated along with the rest of the team, but he wasn't bored. He was intrigued. He wondered what things Aubrey Bennett might know about the Amish, through her years of study. He would have liked to hear her speak about her research ... but the thought of approaching her about it caused a cold sweat to creep up his back and around the sides of his ribs, even in the warm air of the early evening. Still, if only he could approach these people with more confidence, with greater understanding of their view on the world, maybe they could get somewhere with this puzzle even before the forensics came back.

He had stopped to stare up the trunk of a large oak tree when he sensed a car slowing beside him on the street. "Dr. Reid.." came a soft familiar voice, and he froze momentarily before gathering himself to turn around. Aubrey leaned over to see him outside the passenger window. "Another tree lover," she smiled up at him, "I sometimes wonder what those old ones would tell us, if they could speak. About the past I mean, the way things... were once." She stopped and laughed at herself, embarrassed, "You know what I mean."

"Uh.. sure!" he returned the laugh and stared at the sidewalk before forcing himself to meet her eyes again. A few moments of silence passed between them during which he cursed himself a thousand times for not finding any available words.

"Dr. Reid," she started,

"Spencer!" he interrupted. "It's Spencer. Call me...Spencer."

She smiled the slow, sweet smile again that he could not bear to look at. "Spencer, do you have to be somewhere? I'd really like to show you something..."

He rocked back on his heels and shrugged, "Sure!"

"Get in!"

Aubrey's Jeep took them back out onto the highway, headed toward Amish country, once again. The late evening air had grown cooler as the sun set slowly and Aubrey rolled the window down. Sitting beside her, Reid could catch a faint whiff of perfume as the breeze came toward him, and when he could steal a glance he watched stray curls blow across her cheek. He found himself feeling faint. He wondered if Morgan ever felt faint around a girl. He wondered what Morgan would say if he could see him now, alone with Aubrey and stupidly feeling like he might vomit any minute.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

Aubrey had parked at the top of Graber Hill. From the summit, Reid looked out over the landscape of Amish farmland. Gravel and dirt roads criss-crossed between the green fields; rambling white houses dotted the landscape. Each was partnered with a red barn and outbuildings. Each boasted a pristine farmyard, uncluttered, neatly arranged, no automobile or tractor in sight. Although Reid couldn't see it from where they stood, he knew there would be a large vegetable garden, dogs, barncats, livestock grazing or corralled nearby. From here, he could see the tiny gathering of houses where he and J.J. had been. "We drove through a town today...," he said, "and there was nothing on the map."

Aubrey stood quietly beside him, sharing the beauty of the site before them. "There is no need to be on a map. You know, they call themselves 'The People' - 'Amish' is OUR word. They don't consider themselves part of our world. They say, 'We are IN the world, but not OF it.' That's what they feel, to their core."

She touched Reid's arm lightly, pointing to a house to the north of the hill, "See that one? That is the Bishop's house. They elect the bishop from the men most respected in the community - those thought to be the wisest, to walk closest to God."

"Where...where is the church?" Reid scanned the landscape, squinting.

"They don't have a church building. They alternate meeting Sundays in houses. And then only every other Sunday - the ones in between being for visiting. They work hard to stay bonded to their neighbors."

Aubrey sat down on the grassy bank, then smiled up at him. "I sit here sometimes, and feel such...peace looking at all this." She looked out at the farms, "And then I know I could never be part of it. And it makes me sad."

Reid cautiously lowered himself down beside her. The earth under the grass felt cool and damp. He smelled the familiar mustiness that set in every evening here. He wondered exactly why she had brought him here to this spot. Aubrey stretched her legs out in front of her and kicked off her shoes. Her feet were smooth and white at the end of her jeans, and he noticed that her toenails were painted red. His throat felt dry, and when he swallowed he worried that it had been loud enough for her to hear it. But she gave no indication.

"A few years ago, when I was doing my dissertation, I was talking a lot to the Amish people," Aubrey said. "Some of the women one day, they told me that one of the young men in the community had been violent and unpredictable. He threatened to kill another man in the community. He threatened women. He was apparently..." here she stopped and sighed, "beating his wife. He didn't let her visit other homes except for church. She was pretty isolated. They had two young children and another coming. The bishop and the best men in the community, all paid him a visit. They explained to him that God would not like him to be beating his wife, creating a bad atmosphere for his children to grow in. They tried to help him."

Reid felt his heat beating harder..anticipating the story. "What happened?"

"One night their young son - he was maybe ten or eleven - he ran to the neighboring house in the middle of the night."

Reid's eyes once again measured the distance between the farms. A child, running in the dark, alone. He couldn't imagine. Reid had always feared the dark as a child, and could barely admit to himself he still did fear it at times. His mind strained to grasp the terrified thoughts of a young boy running the through the dark field at night, down a gravel-strewn road, to find help.

"When they got back to the house, the mother was beaten near to death. The little girl was bruised as well, and didn't speak for...weeks. The woman lost the baby. The man was gone. Just, gone." Aubrey drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest. "But it was a good thing, you know. The mother - Lydia - she took her children and went to live with her husband's sister and their family. You see, if you are Amish, you are never left alone with no options. No place to go. They will always take you in."

Reid stared down at his hands. "Jacob Yoder."

After a time he said to Aubrey, "You know he is back."

Startled, she turned her head to look at him. "Back? Are you sure?"

"Mr. Wilson at the hardware said he came in ... Thursday."

"Oh, Spencer." Aubrey looked back out across the fields. "Oh, Spencer," she said again. "Do you think Jacob is involved in this?"

Reid's mind snapped to business, "Do you think they won't talk to us because they are afraid of him? Why? Why wouldn't they want to help us?"

Aubrey sighed. "I don't know. They will feel he is one of their own even now. He was banned - they shun you when you do something against their way of life, against the community, God's laws - but if he has expressed repentance and promised to change, he would be welcomed back and forgiven. If they feel you are suspicious of him..perhaps they would try to protect him."

"Harboring a fugitive is against the law," said Reid abruptly.

"He isn't a fugitive...is he?"

"He is if he was wanted for harming his wife. If his beating caused her loss of the baby, that was murder."

Aubrey was silent, and Reid could feel her sudden emotional distance from him. He wanted desperately to draw her back. "I'm sorry," he said softly, unsure what he needed to be apologizing for.

Down in the valley, a gathering of cars had been parked along a stretch of gravel road. Several dozen people were now walking across the nearby field and arriving back at their cars, climbing inside, pulling away. A group of volunteer searchers out looking for the missing children. "They won't find them, will they," Aubrey stated flatly.

"I don't think so," said Reid, his heart pounding in sympathy for hers. Then he offered, "Not here. But they may still be out there."

"But don't they have little chance of survival now? After so long?"

"I don't know, " he said. "This feels different. They took the children, they could have left them dead...for whatever reason. But they took them."

Aubrey looked at him again, hard into his eyes. "I don't want to know why, do I?" Reid looked away, unable to sustain his gaze in the face of her upset. Aubrey stood up. After a few moments, she slipped her shoes back on and started to walk away.

They were nearly to the Jeep when she turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks. Her face was dry but her eyes were red. "Spencer, I don't know why I'm angry. I just hate all this." She stood looking at the ground, searching for her next words. He felt his hand twitch, wanting to reach out to her. "These people don't deserve this... this intrusion from the outside. You said these men were English. What could Jacob have to do with that?" Reid stood looking at the ground, ashamed that he couldn't offer an answer. "I'm sorry." She looked up. "I don't mean to be so . . ."

And then she did something that shocked him to his core. She stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. Spencer held his breath for several long seconds, and then carefully placed his arms around her. He could feel the rise and fall of her breathing. He smelled the shampoo and perfume in her hair. He kept waiting for her to step back again, but she didn't, and so after a time he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head, sure that he had never been more content in his life than he was in that moment.

~~/~~

Aubrey had calmed during the drive back to town. The tense vibes of their conversation on the hill fell away and she was once again feeling herself, centered and generous of spirit. She was mildly ashamed that she had been so emotional with Spencer. After all, none of it was his fault. It was just that she was so torn, between wanting to help the FBI find their answers and yet forcing the world to respect the wishes of the Amish to be left alone. She had nurtured her loyalty to The People for years, and now this duty to the federal investigation had challenged it. She felt that Jacob was somehow involved, and knew that is what Spencer felt too.

Gentle Spencer. The abruptness of his answers had surprised her. She had seen a spark of something unexpected - the part of him that was tough in the face of the horrors he must see in the course of his work. A sort of stubborn commitment to truth. It belied his soft demeanor, the way the gun on his hip belied his graceful presence. The enigma of it had startled her; and on top of that sitting there with him so close had befuddled her.

She was behaving like a schoolgirl. She had found herself fighting not to turn and study his handsome face, the fine lines, to search for some clue there - the mystery that was this beautiful complex man. Sitting on top of the hill beside him, she had felt his eyes on her. She had looked at his hands and their elegant long lines, like the hands of an artist, and she had thought about how they would feel on her. She had felt him listening to her breathe. Had that been her imagination? Some silly fantasy? Good grief, she thought she had outgrown that years ago. She thought she had stopped wanting that years ago... and she had. But something about Spencer was challenging her will.

And so on top of the hill she had allowed herself a brief moment of surrender, and had walked into his arms as if she had a right to. Just to pretend for a moment. For the five minutes or so she allowed him to hold her, she refused to feel any guilt, and now she would refuse to feel any remorse. Even if he thought ... what DID he think? He had been uncharacteristically chatty on the way back to the hotel, telling her all about his home in Virginia and card games with his colleagues. She had listened the charm of his voice as if she were hearing it for the first time, basking in his presence beside her, glancing at him from time to time to see his hair blowing across his face and his disarming smile. She had hoped he wouldn't look at the speedometer and realize she was milking each mile for all it was worth, without being obvious. When she had finally rolled to a stop in front of the hotel, he had softly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, Aubrey, goodnight.." and then she was watching his lanky frame hop up the steps to the door of the hotel, hands in his pockets. She had hastened to pull away before he had time to wonder why she lingered.

~~/~~

Derek Morgan wondered where Reid was at this hour. Morgan had hung around the lobby of the historic hotel, checking out the Victorian architecture and decor, watching the clientele come and go. He had called Reid's phone repeatedly with no return call for 3 hours, and now, at 10:30, he was getting concerned. It wasn't like Reid to stay out alone late. He was early to bed early to rise. Morgan had often forced him to go out, stay up, have a drink, hit on a girl - using magic tricks, the only trick in Reid's repetoire. But the kid wasn't one to stay out on his own.

In his boredom, Morgan had called Aubrey Bennett too. He wasn't sure what excuse he would give - he'd think of something once he had her on the phone. After all, he had some unfinished business with her the other night. He laughed to himself, thinking about how she had dismissed him at the door. She wasn't stupid that one. She was smart, sassy, and gorgeous. And Morgan was having a ball playing the game with her.

He had begged her number off of Hotch, making some excuse about asking her a question about the Amish. Of course, Hotch knew better, and Morgan knew it. But he didn't mind. It was all in fun. The thing was, she hadn't answered her phone either. Not for the three hours he had been ringing her and ringing Reid. Morgan refused to consider that they had been in the same place. That would just be too bizarre.

He was dialing Reid for an eighth time by his count, when he glanced the slender figure glide through the lobby. "Reid!"

Spencer stopped at the call and turned toward Morgan. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

"Why?"

Morgan could sense a bit of annoyance in Reid's voice, and wasn't surprised. Reid hated to be looked after, even though he often needed it, in Morgan's estimation. He shoved Reid's shoulder lightly, "Don't tell me you had a DATE!"

"Funny," Reid smirked. But Morgan thought that even in the dim golden light of the hotel lobby he saw Reid flush. Something in Reid's eyes made him soften.

"Hey," Morgan said. "Come and have a drink with me. Just one. I'm buyin'."

~~/~~

Reid watched Morgan nurse a Michelob, wondering how Morgan could stand it. He was in awe of this friend, this man who didn't seem to be afraid of anything, who exuded confidence - who could drink so-so beer and have one think it was the only beer made. Reid stuck to brandy, which was after all at least worth poisoning your kidneys over.

Morgan had listened carefully to the things Reid had learned about the Amish that day, about their philosophy and way of thinking. He didn't ask where Reid had learned it all, and Reid didn't say who he had learned it from. They discussed the case like the behavioral analysts they were, picking one anther's brains, throwing out theory and conjecture for the other to analyze. In this way members of the team eventually arrived at fresh leads and hopefully conclusions.

Reid had no problem withholding secrets from Morgan, or from anyone. He had spent his life hiding secrets. He had learned early that doing so was basic to survival. Whether it was his mother's schizophrenic episodes, his messy childhood, his shame at constantly feeling defective and painfully different from those around him, or his past drug addiction, he felt no qualms at selectively sharing information, even with those who most cared for his welfare. He had simply never understood any alternative. Tonight he held the secret that he had held in his arms for a few minutes Morgan's elusive prize, and he relished it.

He watched the thick liquid brandy as he swirled it in the snifter, and thought about the thing Morgan would never know. That he, Reid, was not as innocent as Morgan thought. Any one of them, the team, would be amazed to know the truth. Reid knew a thing or two about women.

The year before his recruitment into the FBI, he had been a 22-year-old with two Ph.D.'s and working on a third. He had had few real friends. Those his own age were still drinking themselves into oblivion at frat parties and trying to pass a test on Monday. Those his equal in education were much older, and those equal in intellect were deep in their various endeavors. Reid had found himself lost, academia being the only comfortable place he knew, the only place in which he truly understood the rhythm. He was biding his time until he would fall into teaching, or until he found his path elsewhere, whichever came first. At 22 he really didn't care. He had the education and mind of a middle-aged man, and the experience of a teenager. Already, he felt himself on the wrong planet. That was before Gideon had come to steal him away to the BAU.

Sometime during that year, he met a professor of art history through other acquaintances. Or rather, she met him. Annette was foreign, lovely, and fast. She was disarmingly comfortable in her female skin. There was no male she feared to conquer, and none that cared to resist. She was smart, worldly and gregarious. She ate life raw and never looked back. At first acquaintance, Reid was terrified.

She had asked him to dinner. He took it as a joke. He had laughed, and said, "Do you know how old I am?" knowing that she was at least ten years older. Later he had regretted the laughing, realizing she had been serious after all. But then she had asked him again, to various gatherings and functions, and he had gradually realized she meant it. She thought he had the slightest idea what to do, how to behave with her. The more he refused and avoided her, the more she pursued him. Then one certain evening, he attended a pool party at the instigation of a fellow student companion. Annette was there, scantly clad in a bikini. Pairs of male eyes hungrily followed her throughout the evening as she flitted happily about the party, chatting and laughing. And eyeing Spencer across the pool.

At some point in the evening he consented to donning a suit and sliding into the cool water, feeling less exposed when up to his neck in the dark of the pool. He talked to Jeanna Murphy, a girl he knew from chemistry lab, as she sat dangling her feet in the pool. Occasionally they would be splashed from the rowdy play of those around them. They would duck and smile and go on with the conversation. The ripples and waves made by the revelers as they splashed comforted Spencer, as he knew they hid him from sight.

But suddenly he had felt hands around his waist, turning him around. Before he could respond, he was staring into the pretty face of Annette, and she was sliding her arms around him, pulling him to her. "Hello," she purred. She kissed him deeply.

She carried on a conversation with Jeanna over his shoulder, calmly, practiced. Occasionally she kissed his mouth, ignoring his astonished embarrassment. Then he felt her hand slide into the front of his bathing suit, "What are you doing?" he chocked. He knew that to make a loud statement or commotion would be to let Jeanna and maybe others know what was transpiring, and so he remained still, hoping against hope that it was some tasteless joke on Annette's part. "What do you think I'm doing," she laughingly whispered and kissed his nose, as she wrapped her long legs around him.

Even now he still felt the confusion of that evening, the absolute disbelief when she drew him closer and he felt himself sliding into her. He had been surprised at how detached he had felt, how emotionless. So that was it, he had thought. That landmark of his youth conquered. The Big V. That was over with. He had been glad of it, and at the same time disappointed in it. In the end he had found himself apathetic. He was relieved that it went smoothly, that all the mechanics were functioning as he understood they should. When it was over she kissed him again and swam away. He had stood there in the pool, people splashing around him, water up to his neck, and felt his knees shaking, his stomach turning.

Later that evening, as he had wrapped himself in a towel and walked toward the house to change, she had stopped him. For the first time, he saw something genuine in her eyes. "Spencer," she said softly, "Was that your first time?"

He had been unable to speak then, and she had taken his hand in hers and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I didn't think. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he had shrugged lightly. "Why be sorry?" But he couldn't bring himself to smile, and just looked at her.

"Come on," she finally said, "Let's get dressed. I'll drive you home if you like." But she didn't take him home. She took him to her place, and spent the night making it up to him, caressing him in ways a practiced lover could, teaching him to return the caresses. She continued to see him for months afterward, and he allowed it, enjoying her company on an intellectual level, and not minding the sex either. He had a sneaking feeling her colleagues considered him her current toy, but he didn't care. Once he overheard her joke that he had been the only man she had ever chased. When he consented to go to the BAU with Gideon, he actually felt some genuine remorse at leaving her.

Their last night together, as he lie sleepless anticipating his job at the BAU and contemplating Gideon's description of the opportunity to come, she had held him close to her in the dark and had told him how beautiful he was, how gentle, and that someday he would be loved greatly by a woman. He had tried to believe her, and maybe he had even managed to do it for a time. But now years had gone by and he didn't believe it anymore. He told himself that his work hours and the nature of the job had made it impossible to get involved with a girl, and he didn't want a one night stand. He wasn't like Morgan. That wouldn't have been worth the trouble.

Once he dated a girl a few times, one he had met in the course of the job, but then the team was called off on a case, and he found himself losing interest. And now the years had passed and he stood on the crest of 30. His 29th birthday had brought him no joy, and he felt the seconds of the next twelve months already ticking away.

But what did he want? Certainly not something like Annette - that had been empty, temporary, without meaning. After that had ended he had felt bewildered, used up. He thought of what he felt near Aubrey Bennett, trembling, sick, weak, terrified. He had never experienced such total fear in the presence of a woman. Ineptitude, embarrassment, yes. But not this - not this feeling of desperation, of wanting to lie at her feet and beg...

She had held him for a few minutes, that's all. She was sad, and upset. She had no knowledge of his feelings, and that was the way he should keep it. Aubrey was far above him, above anything for which he dared to hope, or anything he would have the faintest clue how to deserve. He looked across the table at Morgan, re-focusing on the conversation, and resolved to put Aubrey out of his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Derek Morgan awoke to the ringing of his cell phone at 6:15 am. "This better be Hotch," he mumbled, leaning over to fumble for the phone on the nightstand. He didn't open his eyes. He had a headache - the result of too many beers the night before and too little sleep. His hand bumped the phone and it fell to the floor. "Dammit!"

He climbed out of bed and turned on the lamp. Morning light was just creeping in through the drawn curtains. The strains of a technical "Hawaii Five-0" theme screamed at him again as he scanned the floor before the nightstand and under the edge of the bed. Why couldn't Hotch bug Prentiss, or Reid? Reid had only had one drink, as usual. He was always up anyway at the crack of dawn. "Where is it?" he yelled to no one. He located the phone inside his shoe, and flipped it open. "WHAT?"

"Agent Morgan?," came a female voice. Who was that? Familiar. His mind scrambled to place it. Not Prentiss, not J.J., not Penelope... "I'm sorry it is so early. I'm sorry..."

"Yeah?"

"It's Aubrey. Bennett."

Morgan softened his tone. "Aubrey. What is it? Everything okay?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"I'm downstairs. I tried to call Dr. Reid too, but he isn't answering my call... I have, there is someone with me you need to speak with. It's important."

"OK." Morgan paused to shake the sleep from his face, trying to clear his head. "Where's Reid?" Realizing suddenly that it was a stupid question to ask her, he continued, "I'll be down. Give me fifteen."

Twenty minutes later he stood outside Reid's room and banged on the door. "Reid!"

The door opened immediately and an astonished, fully-dressed and groomed Reid looked at him frowning. "It's 6:30, Morgan. What are you doing?"

"Why aren't you answering your phone? Come on, we gotta go."

"I am answering my phone. Why didn't you call me?"

"Because Aubrey says you aren't answering your phone. Come on."

"Where are we going?" They trotted down three flights of carpet-covered stairs - because Morgan liked the exercise and Reid hated elevators - and as they did, Reid thought about the fact that he had ignored Aubrey's call when he had seen it on his phone. Last evening had left him confused. It was stupid, really. A girl in a town half-way across the country from his home in Quantico - what sense would it make? And she didn't...she wouldn't feel anything for him anyway. The case had simply made her worried last night, and made her turn to him in a way she wouldn't have otherwise. And he didn't want to invest his feelings in her any further. He wanted the case to end, and to go home and forget about her.

Aubrey was waiting for them when they reached the bottom of the stairs, in a quiet corner of the lobby away from foot traffic. She was turned away from them and gazing out the window as the light rose over the town. The early dawn sunlight had formed a halo around her hair. Once more, its color startled Reid. She turned as they approached, but didn't offer her usual warm greeting. Instead she helped the young girl seated beside her to her feet.

"Leah," breathed Reid. The girl was dressed in modern street clothes..jeans, plain blue T-shirt, sneakers. Modest and nondescript. Her long hair was plaited down her back. She stood nearly as tall as Aubrey, and seemed older than she had in Amish dress a few days before. Her face betrayed her anxiety as she glanced up at the two men. Her gaze fell on Dr. Reid and stayed.

"Leah left her grandfather's house this morning and came to find me. They usually rise before sunup," said Aubrey. "I think she needs to say some things to you."

"Is there somewhere quiet we can go?" asked Reid to anyone with an answer, his face softening as he looked at the girl.

They found a quiet table in the sunny restaurant of the hotel, and when they sat down, Reid suggested they have breakfast. He knew that food was a calming influence, and a social ice-breaker. He always felt easier with a fork and a cup of coffee in his hands when sitting across a table conversing. He assumed that Leah might feel the same. Aubrey sat quietly with her arm over the back of Leah's chair and let the men take the lead in the conversation. Her eyes had not met those of Spencer; she was thinking of the knock on her door before the morning sun rose. Griff had barked a warning and Aubrey had shushed him as she undid the locks, having glimpsed the silhouette of a buggy outside. Leah's face had met her, crying softly on the porch, hugging her arms around her plain blue Amish dress. After ten minutes of listening to why the girl was at her door, she knew she needed to find the BAU. She had given Leah her own clothing, so as not to attract attention to the already terrified girl.

"Leah," Reid said, "you must have a good reason to have come from your grandfather's house all the way to town. Can you tell us what you told Aub.. .Miss Bennett?"

The young girl sighed deeply, looking down at her plate, stirring her eggs absently. "My uncle was there."

Morgan glanced at Aubrey.

The girl continued,"He was there, and I saw him. I lied before."

Reid's gentle voice soothed,"I don't think you lied, Leah, you maybe just didn't tell us everything you could have. You need to do that now though. Were there two men, two English men, AND your Uncle Jacob?"

"Yes," came the whisper.

Five minutes into the story Morgan had stopped inhaling his pancakes, and Reid had pushed his half-eaten Eggs Benedict aside. Aubrey felt her eyes sting and determined not to cry as she listened: Leah had seen her uncle, and had seen much more. She had been taken to the barn with the two adult women. She had watched the men beat and torture the women - taking their time, merely entertaining themselves - and Leah had stood tied to the frame of the barn door as they were both raped and hung. Her young cousins had been locked in a lean-to shed on the side of the barn while all this took place, and she had listened to them screaming - her cousin Michael's voice growing hoarse with the strain, her cousin Abby's smaller voice sobbing wildly. Her Aunt Lydie and Mama cried and begged for the beatings to stop, and begged and screamed as they realized the ugliest moments of their assault were yet to come. These sounds had seemed to roar into her ears as she stood trying desperately not to watch the bloody mayhem in the barn, and unable to look away.

Her uncle had come then to untie her, and she realized that she wasn't to be killed, but had been made to watch. The three children were marched through the dark field at a pace that left their leg muscles burning. Leah had clung to Abby's hand, and she had exchanged terrified glances with Micheal as they went, the men behind them carrying shovels and an ax that they had taken from the barn. Leah had felt the skin shiver on her back as she thought about the steel of the ax behind her as they walked.

They had come to the paved highway then, and she saw a van packed there waiting. One English man got inside and another slid the back door open and ordered the children to get in. Leah had started to climb in after her cousins when her uncle's hand stayed her. He told the man inside that they would be just a minute, and he closed the door.

Taking Leah's arm, he took her into the edge of the field at the side of the road. His grip hurt her arm, but she didn't dare breathe a word. Shoving her roughly in front of him, he stopped and stared at her. "You're going to be worth something to me. I always liked you." His eyes traveled to her feet and back up again. There was a look in his eyes - a mocking, hungry look - that she had never in her young life seen before this night. "Your father took my wife and family. And now, I will take it all from him. You'll be my new wife." She froze. "Kneel down." She couldn't move, and couldn't breathe."KNEEL DOWN!" He bellowed.

Leah had done what she was told to every day of her young life. She had never defied an adult. And now, she didn't know how to. She didn't want to do what he said, but felt the inevitability of the situation. She lowered her head, looked down at the dark vegetation at her feet, and willed herself to kneel. She knew what he would make her do, because she had seen it done back at the barn. But maybe if she did, then he might allow her to live.

Then suddenly there was a commotion at the van, the sound of a door sliding. And Michael's hoarse voice calling, "LEAH!"

Uncle Jacob turned his head then, back toward the van, and in that moment, Leah found her courage. Courage she never dreamt she would possess. She found herself running faster than she had ever run, across the road, into the woods. She ran until her chest burned so badly that she fell to her knees from the pain. Then she scrambled to the bottom of a tree and sat with her back up against it, trying to quiet her breathing. Leah hadn't heard the van moving down the road as if to leave, and she knew they were looking for her. Or at least one of them was...Uncle Jacob. She heard men's voices, English men, and couldn't make out what they were saying, but they were shouting and angry.

Then she heard a heavy body coming through the trees toward her, and she put both hands hard over her mouth to keep from screaming. Uncle Jacob was furious. "LEAH!" he raged. "I will kill you when I find you!"

She closed her eyes and prayed, willing God to keep her hidden from Uncle Jacob. She knew she had always tried to be good, and she tried to live by God's law every day of her life, as she was taught to. Mama had said God guided the People when they obeyed his laws. Oh, poor Mama! She squeezed her eyes against the memory of her mother's horrified, anguished face a few hours ago as her life had drained away. And Papa had been gone from the farm late in the evening. He would come back home to find it all. He would find the house empty and he would go to the barn to check the animals, and find the bodies. And then he would look for her, and Michael and Abby, and find them gone. Thinking of her father's grief as he found everything as it should not be, she felt her heart break for the hundredth time that night as she sat there praying. And waiting.

Then suddenly she realized that all was quiet. She lifted her head to listen, holding her breath. There was nothing. Perhaps the van had left, while she was praying - only the sound of her pleas to God in her head. But how could she be sure? She stayed silent and waited. She had waited until she say the dawn creep through the tops of the trees. And then, dirty, scratched and bleeding, she had climbed out of the woods and walked across the fields toward home, toward her father's arms.

~~/~~

"Is that your grandfather?" Reid asked Leah, motioning to a parked buggy, as Morgan pulled into the parking lot of the police station.

Amos Yoder was waiting inside . . . and he was angry with his granddaughter. He strode across the lobby toward her as they entered. Reid sensed her cringe beside him and stepped in front of her protectively, as Morgan headed the old man off. "Mr. Yoder," said Morgan as he stepped into Yoder's personal space,"your granddaughter is safe. And you need to talk to us. This time, you need to be straight with us."

Hotch and Rossi were waiting with Yoder. "Come on ," said Rossi,"Let's go talk."

"I will NOT talk to you! I will take my granddaughter home!"

"I'm afraid we aren't giving you a choice this time, Amos," Sheriff Bontrager was saying as he entered the lobby. "We can hold you here and wait as long as you can, until you decide to help us out."

Hotch glanced at Bontrager. He knew they couldn't keep the Amish man indefinitely. He suspected Bontrager was playing on the man's ignorance of that fact to get him to cooperate. As the sheriff led Yoder to the back rooms, Hotch said, "Morgan, you stick with us. Reid, you and Prentiss go find Ezra Troyer. See what you get out of him without Yoder around."

"What about Leah?" Aubrey was asking Morgan. "I don't think she ought to go back home right now until things calm down. Leah, do you want to stay with me?"

The girl shook her head shyly, grateful.

"Wait a minute Aubrey," Morgan said. "They could still be looking for Leah. She saw everything."

"Can we put a guard on the house?" asked Reid.

"We have to get that buggy out of there too, out of sight. I'll talk to Hotch and Bontrager about putting a watch on the house."

Reid had had just enough time to relay Leah's story to Prentiss as they drove toward the Yoder farm, when they came upon a buggy. It rolled toward them slowly down the highway, and as it approached, the man in the passenger seat leaned out and waved an arm high up in the air at them. "Is that him?" squinted Reid.

"Yeah, it is," said Prentiss as she pulled to a stop.

Troyer sprinted toward them as they climbed out of the SUV. The woman driving the buggy waited inside. When he reached them, Troyer's face was flushed, and his eyes red. He showed no shame when he lifted a hand to wipe the wet away from his red-rimmed eyes. He straightened his hat and said nothing, but waited for Reid and Prentiss to speak.

"Mr. Troyer," Prentiss said as she slowly approached him, "do you know Leah is in town? With Ms. Bennett?"

"Yah. My father-in-law, Amos Yoder is there too now."

"Yes, we just saw him." Prentiss glanced at Reid, unsure how to approach the conversation. "He is at the police station now."

"He must tell the truth!" Ezra Troyer's voice cracked. "Leah was hurt!"

Reid stepped forward then, "We know that Mr. Troyer. Leah told us what happened."

Troyer gave Reid a long, steady look. Eye to eye, man to man, as if he wondered what all Reid knew about his daughter's experience. Reid sensed it. A suspected invasion. Of his daughter's modesty, her integrity, of their privacy. ", she did right to tell us. Now we can begin to understand why this happened. Mr. Troyer, do you know that your brother-in-law,...that he was part of this?"

Troyer looked at his feet and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. "Yah. I do."

"Do you know why he would want to do this?"

Troyer was suddenly animated. "He is not right in the head!" He tapped at his own temple. "Don't you know? He tried to kill his wife once before. She came to live in my house. He is not right in the head, and now he thinks I took his family." Troyer looked out over the fields as if he thought to find something particular in the landscape. He breathed in deeply. His blue eyes filled again. "He took mine ... he took my wife. He ... he hurt Leah."

Reid rubbed his hands together in front of him as he spoke, "Mr. Troyer, do you know where Jacob might have gone?"

Troyer's eyes continued to wander over the corn. "No. I would tell you if I did."

~~/~~

Back at the station, Amos Yoder's demeanor had turned from defense to defeat. Once Hotch and Rossi revealed the details of Leah's ordeal to him, he knew he was beat. He could no longer protect his son from the inevitable long arm of the law of the outside world.

"We take care of our own," he offered as explanation, "Jacob was trying to come back to us, to God. He hated Ezra, that was his illness you see." He looked up at Rossi, who was leaning over the table, looking down at him. "But Ezra prayed for him, for God to heal his heart. We all did."

"Mr. Yoder," said Rossi,"two women are dead. This is beyond God's forgiveness. Jacob is a danger. We have to find him and get your grandkids back safe."

Yoder looked up again sharply at Rossi, "NOTHING is beyond God's forgiveness." he said.

By late morning the entire team had gathered at the station to review the situation. Forensics had come back, and shown evidence of three men: fibers from two sets of clothing, semen from two men, hair from a third man. None of the three were in the database. This was no surprise in the case of Jacob Yoder. The trail coming up dry in the case of the other two men was a disappointment. But they knew that if they found Jacob's whereabouts they might find the children too. Jacob had taken his own children, to take them back from Ezra, back from the history of Jacob's difficult past. But whether he would care for them or harm them, no one could be sure.

"The involvement of the two accomplices almost suggests that there is another motive," Reid speculated.

"Trafficking? Child porn?" added Prentiss.

"They only really needed two men to kill the women," said Morgan. "Why bring a third?"

The beeping of Reid's cell phone interrupted their thoughts. "Excuse me," he said and stepped to the side of the room.

Reid's heart had skipped when he saw Aubrey's name on his phone. He knew a squad car was parked in front of her house and a policeman inside with her and Leah, but he still felt a chill of concern. "Aubrey?"

"Spencer, I need you to come over here. I'm sorry to bother you. But there is something you need to see."

"Are you...are you both all right?" he asked.

Aubrey felt warmth rise over her face, realizing he had been worried about her. "I'm fine. But can you come? Please?"

Aubrey met Reid at the door when he arrived. He stepped into the little house and glanced around at the cozy interior. Books, antique furniture, porcelain plates. Lace curtains. An elegant old-worldliness contrasted with bright, warm colors that appealed to him. The room spoke to him about her interests. A uniformed officer sat on the sofa, reading a magazine. A glass of something cold sat on the coffee table in front of him. Reid nodded at him as Aubrey led him into the kitchen.

Aubrey put a hand on his arm and spoke in low tones as she stood near him. "Spencer, I heard Leah cry out in her room, and I went in to help her. I know she is bruised and sore, so I didn't think anything of helping her. But when I walked in she tried to hide something - Spencer, there is a bite mark on her. A bad one." He thought he saw her lip quiver as she said the last words.

"She is Amish, and like any young girl she is modest, but ... well, this will be hard for her but you need to see this."

Five minutes later Reid was standing in a bedroom and examining a deep, reddish-purple bite impression on the girl's shoulder, as Aubrey gently held her hair aside. Leah wept silently with the shame of baring her naked back to Reid as she clutched her shirt to her chest. His fingers were gentle as he barely touched the wound, mentally measuring the depth of the marks. "Yes... that's a bite all right," he said softly. "Leah, who did that? Was it your Uncle Jacob?"

"No.." she whispered. "It was the other man." Then she said, "I think I knew him. I saw him once in town. But I don't know his name."

Reid looked at Aubrey. He knew she shared his thoughts. This girl had not meant to keep that information from them. She simply lacked the sophistication to realize how important it was. She had no knowledge of the forensic intricacies of a police investigation. Without the years of crime drama on television that other kids had, she wouldn't have considered it. Her world was far simpler. "We'll have to take her into the station to get photos and a possible impression from this."

He felt Leah's back stiffen under his touch. "They don't take photographs," Aubrey explained.

"Leah, they need to take a picture of the mark, that's all. They won't take any pictures of your face."

Leah turned and looked up into his face then. "Do you promise?" she said.

Reid glanced down nervously, and then looked deeply into her face,"Yes," he said, "I promise. I won't let that happen."

~~/~~

Later in the afternoon, as Reid, Leah and Aubrey left the station, they found that the road was blocked by a procession of buggies. Reid counted 54 of them, all headed in the same direction out of town. They traveled single file, and as they passed very little conversation was heard to float from them. The steady clopping of the many horse's hooves at once, was surprising in its loudness. The staff at the police station, along with Prentiss and J.J., were already standing alongside the road with the townspeople. The "English" had all come out, a show of sympathy and support as the Amish funeral procession passed by slowly, carrying the bodies of Leah's aunt and mother. One buggy broke from the line as it neared the place where Leah stood, coming to a stop to allow her to climb in. Amos Yoder and Ezra Troyer nodded toward Reid and Aubrey from inside the buggy.

"I hope she'll be okay..." said Reid as he watched the buggy roll away to rejoin the group.

Aubrey found herself moved by his words. So many times during the day she had watched him speak to Leah so tenderly. So concerned for the emotional welfare of this sixteen year old Amish girl. His job was to catch a killer, not to comfort Leah, and yet he had done so. Aubrey thought about the concern in his voice when she had phoned him; it hadn't been her imagination that he asked about her welfare. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Spencer Reid was a gentleman.

Aubrey looked down the country highway at the line of buggies now nearly past them. So many - the entire Amish community to help one family grieve. It wasn't about the murders, although they had surely shaken the Amish. No, she had seen these funerals before, and it was always like this. Youngstown always knew when the Amish were burying one of their own because the buggies came softly, slowly through the town to the cemetery. What was different today is that the English all stood out in the open, quietly, as they passed.

Aubrey felt the faint warmth of Spencer as he stood beside her watching. She had not been wrong to take him to the hill and show him her special place, from where she watched the Amish landscape and dreamt of a quieter life in vain. She thought that perhaps he even understood. Or at least he wished to. She thought about hearing him speak to the Amish men, respectfully and on their own terms. Spencer was a man who tried hard to understand people he came into contact with. She appreciated that and admired it. She thought about the way he had so gently fingered the bite marks on Leah. Then suddenly, as she had done the day before, she did something that surprised herself. She reached out and slipped her hand into the cradle of his long fingers. And as it had been the day before, she felt no discomfort in touching him, but only a deep peace.

Later that evening, as the two walked up the steps to her house, he was still holding her hand. She opened the door and turned, smiling and expecting him to follow her inside, but he stopped. "I..need to get back," he said and looked away. But then his eyes looked back, into hers for several long moments, and she realized that in all the times they had spoken, he had never let his eyes rest on hers. He had always looked away first - in discomfort, or shyness. She didn't know which. She saw now how large and deep his eyes were - a pretty hazel brown. His brows twitched a bit, inquisitively, and a tiny smile played at one corner of his lips.

Spencer was a little bit inaccessible, and it left her unsettled but intrigued. Something told her that if she were to know his life story, it might hold many sad moments. He had shared little about himself or his past. "Please," she said,"It's been long day for both of us, I know, but you do have to eat something, Spencer. Aren't you tired of restaurants?" And when she saw him smile she said, "I can cook. I promise you won't die."

He didn't answer, but his shy smile lingered, and she turned and went inside, knowing he would follow this time.

They passed several hours then, talking and laughing. She chased him out of the kitchen after he nearly caught a towel on fire while trying to help. He seemed out of his element there. But over the table, as they ate and shared stories, he was calm and charming and funny. He told her about growing up in Las Vegas, a child prodigy and genius. His father had left, and he was raised by his mother, also brilliant and a professor of literature. She read to him and loved him, and they took care of each other. Aubrey caught something in his voice that told her there was more..something darker about those years, but she didn't pry. What she did hear between the lines, and in spite of his joking, was that he had been lonely. He didn't speak about particular friendships, but spoke about books as though they had been his treasured companions.

He had asked about her life, and she had told him. In a matter-of-fact tone, about her parents' deaths, her upbringing. Good fortune, and some loss. His eyes had studied hers again as she spoke, his patient, listening silence had coaxed her on - until she realized she had told him things, personal things, that she had not planned on telling anyone. Certainly not a man she barely knew...

Spencer had shared a glass of wine with her, but had refused a second when it was offered. She sensed something odd in his refusal, feeling that it came too abruptly, and she wondered why. She thought that perhaps he didn't like to drink when on a case.

By 9:30 they were both too exhausted to follow the trail of the conversation, and Reid had dried the last of the dishes, having been allowed into the kitchen once all burners were off. He bent to scratch Griff's neck before walking toward the door. He turned to her as he stepped back out onto the porch. "Thanks. For dinner. It was...really kind of you. And for...the talk." He fingered his tie and watched a moth flutter into the porchlight.

"I'm glad you stayed." said Aubrey."I like talking to you. I like ... being around you."

He suddenly reached up and pulled a strand of hair from her face, "Me too" he said in a whisper. And placed his lovely full mouth softly on hers. Before her mind could snap back to consciousness he was walking down the walk and away again, hands in his pockets, pace quick and focused, his hair lifting and falling in the breeze as he walked. Aubrey turned and walked back into her house and looked around the living room, thinking how empty it seemed now that Spencer Reid was gone.

~~/~~

Morgan was sitting in his hotel room watching the Amish buggy procession on the local news, when he heard Ried's door close across the hallway from his. He glanced at his watch - 10:15pm - and chuckled to himself. He didn't have to wonder where Reid had been, and with whom. The kid had surprised him. Aubrey Bennett was not a young girl. She was probably about Reid's age, educated, intelligent, some life under her belt. And she was a beauty, no doubt about that. Morgan wondered where they went, what the conversation consisted of. Magic tricks? Geometric formulas? Astronomy, maybe? He laughed aloud as he switch off the TV and settled into the bed. He hoped Reid had finally got some.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

By noon on Wednesday, Sheriff Bontrager had secured the warrants needed to search through the files of every dentist in the county until they could find a match to the bite marks on Leah Troyer. The girl had claimed that the man who bit her was familiar to her: the team was hopeful that they would finally move close to finding the men who terrorized the Troyer family and their cohort Jacob Yoder. With a lot of luck, they might even find the Yoder children alive.

Spencer Reid had busied himself with memorizing parts of The Farmers Almanac, something he had wanted to do for some time. He felt at a loss, having grown up in the city. He had known for years that an entire universe had eluded his experience - people out there who understood the earth and how it worked: how in the sense of some ancient tradition man had moved with the rhythm of weather and seasons to feed and sustain himself, as these people still did. Here in this beautiful place, with the smells of black dirt and half-grown fields and manure and silage and rain, he had watched the local farmers, Amish and non-amish. Here, there were many people with little formal education but a deep knowledge of life's laws and rhythms - a knowledge that he himself lacked, and he had found that he envied them. Just as Aubrey had, when she spoke about it as they sat on the hill and looked down over this valley and its farms.

Aubrey. The thought of her caused him delight and great discomfort. Dinner at her place had been so revealing. She was warm and inviting. She had held his hand as they walked as if it were the most natural thing she could do, with no hint of nervousness, chatting as they went along. And he had been tied in knots. He felt as if he spent each minute with her waiting - waiting for her to suddenly discover who he really was and change her mind. Change her mind and leave him.

Like the idiot that he was, the "genius Dr. Reid" had nearly set her kitchen on fire. After that he had sat at the table in the dining room of her cozy house, admiring the craftsman era architecture and her choice of paint colors. He marveled at her musical tastes...he noted that her CD collection contained - to his great satisfaction - Mozart, Rachmaninov, Beethoven and all the soundtracks to the Star Wars movies - some of John Williams at his finest. But when she turned on music in the kitchen to aid her labor, it was some sort of hard rock. At first he was horrified, and then as he watched her enjoyment of its noise, it began to grow on him. She danced around as she worked and talked to him, with unabashed abandon. He blushed to think he wouldn't have known how to dance with her, and he wouldn't know how to be so free as she was. He tried to avert his eyes from her body as it moved - the perfect, studied fluid lines of a beautiful female. He wondered if her toenails were still red. He felt the urgent rush of wanting her in his body and gasped, covering it with a nervous cough when she looked up from her work at him. He thought how seldom his own body had so loudly reminded him that he was a man.

When he had been a young boy, and had come home from a day of school mentally weary and physically tired to collapse into a chair, his mother would sometimes gently lift his foot into her lap, remove his shoe and sock and rub his foot. She would soothe one foot and then the other, as she talked to him about the things she was reading and about the delusions in which she was currently engaging. This simple maternal act had so moved him because it was one of the few things she was capable of doing in terms of nurturing him as years passed; as she slipped deeper into her own reality she gradually left his, and these close moments became fewer still. He found that as an adult his mind fought to preserve these memories as some evidence that he had in fact been taken care of by someone, at some time. Someone had loved him. Now, watching Aubrey, he imagined that he might one day take her feet gently in his hands, those small white, smooth feet with the painted toenails. And he would rub her day's weariness away and talk to her about his day and she would know that he . . . but then Reid snapped back to the present reality and knew he would never touch her in this way. She was a treasure in a dark world - something pure and uplifting and strong, something from a different place than the place from which he came - a place where small boys grew up taking care of themselves, mothers came undone and were put away, and fathers left and were not heard from again. He had made a public world for himself where he worked at something meaningful, but his private world was too often filled with isolation, shame, secrets, drugs, the face of brutal murder. No, Aubrey would find a man someday very different from himself to be with - someone from a quieter world, a nobler world, more similar to hers.

At dinner he had drunk a glass of wine with her, and felt its warmth fill his veins and relax his reticence. He had found the courage to tell her some things about himself, and watched light dance in her eyes as she listened. Those blue-gray eyes that had so pierced him the first time he saw her, rested upon him for nearly two hours. And for that time, he felt himself so lucky to have lived those two hours, that he thought its memory might sustain him for years. At the end of the evening he had stopped outside the door and turned to her once more, and she had told him that she liked being near him - his heart had nearly stopped to hear it, and he had kissed her and felt the rare rush of urgent heat again. As he had walked away down the street into the dark of the night, he had felt as if it had been Christmas and he had received just what he had wanted, and now it would be December 26 and life would continue as always, but the memory would be there. Nothing would take that from him, ever. He was at that moment quite certain that he would never be as moved by a woman as he had been by Aubrey, and he knew that that would have to be enough.

~~/~~

The team had passed the day quietly, waiting for local law enforcement to investigate thousands of dental records. But evening came with a bang: as the sun dropped low over the fields and filled them with a warm glow, the sound of fire engines warned of trouble. By the time the black SUV's turned onto the gravel road leading to the Yoder home, the smoke could be seen for miles.

"How long ago did the call come?" Morgan asked as he anticipated the scene ahead.

"Twenty minutes...no more," answered Hotch.

"How do they call for help with no phones?" asked Rossi.

"Look at the corners of the fields," Reid said irritably,"they do have phones."

J.J. and Prentiss exchanged a concerned glance, both in response to Reid's unexplained moodiness, and in worry for the Amish farm that stood burning.

Reid wondered if anyone had called Aubrey. He looked down at his phone, wondering if he had missed her call. Nothing. He wouldn't call - he would let someone else do that. She didn't need him.

"Oh, no," Prentiss breathed as they turned into the lane of the Yoder farm. The barn was an enormous inferno. As late evening became dusk and finally night, the unfortunate bonfire rose out of the landscape like a fiery monster. Firefighters had abandoned it and were dragging hoses to douse a nearby chicken house, which had caught fire as embers blew in the wind from the barn. The house would be next in line; they drenched the side of the house and and the porch with gallons of water as a defensive measure. They drenched the edges of the fields where they met the farmyard to prevent the crops from burning. And then there was nothing to do but stand and watch as the barn burned itself out.

Amos Yoder stood with his wife and watched with the firefighters. The fire had taken none of his horses, but a buggy had been lost, harnesses and assorted tack, farming equipment, along with the storage of hay that was to feed this livestock into fall. His calm was typical of his Amish character, but he was a changed man from the stern stubbornness of days before. Now he approached the agents as they appeared walking in the darkness up the lane, with a hand outstretched in greeting. He nodded as Hotch returned the gesture. "This is Jacob's work," he declared flatly, "Jacob and his friends".

"I'm sorry Mr. Yoder," said Hotch. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you."

"They know we are looking at dental records," stated Rossi, "they know we are closing in. This was a warning."

"But we aren't closing in," said Morgan,"there could be thousands of records to look at! We aren't any closer to finding these bastards than we were four days ago!"

Suddenly Emma Yoder ran toward her husband and clutched the front of his shirt in her hands. "Leah is gone! He has taken Leah!" In the confusion of the fire, no one had counted heads. Now it had become obvious that the teenager was gone.

Reid felt nausea rise in his stomach. His mind flashed on the terror in Leah's face when she had recounted Jacob's words to her that night, how he would steal her from her father, how he would force her to submit to him - to ruin her innocence was the loudest message of hate he could send to Ezra Troyer. The agents paused momentarily to think, and Reid's mind screamed at them to move, to run, to find her - as he struggled to maintain a professional silence until someone would speak, state the plan. Three missing now, two dead. And they were getting nowhere.

"They must have left the farm on foot," said Prentiss, "they can't be that far..."

"Let's go," ordered Hotch, "J.J. you stay here and see what you can learn from the family about what happened before the fire."

Sheriff Bontrager's patrol car pulled to a stop in front of the porch. Climbing out of the car he shouted to the nearest fireman, "What do we have here?"

Walking to meet Bontrager, Hotch said, "We need to get the dogs out here again. The girl is gone."

"Already on it," said the Sheriff, "Called it in to dispatch ten minutes ago."

Morgan and Reid had taken off before the others and were pulling onto the county road before the others were into the second vehicle. "Where are we going?" asked Reid, "Where do we look first?"

"The shortest way from that farm through a field leads to the east-west highway. I suspect they are parked there." Morgan squinted through the dark of the country road, praying he wouldn't encounter a buggy or an animal unawares in the darkness as he sped along.

They waited at the end of the gravel road for a lone vehicle to pass, before Morgan could race out behind it onto the highway. But as it passed, Reid recognized Aubrey's Jeep. Then it hit him. Aubrey. She knew about the fire when they did. And she knew what it meant before they did.

"Morgan, it's Aubrey! That's Aubrey!"

He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket and dialed. As it repeatedly rang he willed her voice to answer him.

"Reid, what is it?" Morgan was asking, seeing the frantic concern on Reid's face as he waited for the answer.

"Aubrey," Reid breathed out as he dialed again, "if they took Leah, I think she may have gone after them."

"Reid, she wouldn't be that stupid!"

"She has the dog for tracking. . yes, I think she would be that stupid."

Morgan plowed past the Jeep and pulled it front of it, stopping Aubrey. Reid jumped out, "Keep going," he called at Morgan as he slammed the door, and Morgan headed down the highway toward the south boundary line of the farm.

Aubrey sat in the Jeep, shaking and confused. Reid strode to the Jeep and opened her door, "What are you DOING?" he yelled into her face. Griffin growled at him from the passenger seat. Aubrey put a hand on the animal to quiet him. She breathed deeply in a vain effort to calm herself, "They have Leah, don't they? I heard the sirens, and I knew."

Spencer was beside himself. He stifled the urge to pace, shuffling his feet instead. "What are you doing?" he demanded, only slightly less loudly.

She glared at him then, angry that he hadn't answered her and was still having his tantrum. "I have the dog. I could be of ...some use!"

"HERE? You could be in the way!"

"Spencer, she is ALONE with them!"

"They killed two women!" he screamed at her. "They are likely armed! And here you are...What were you thinking?"

He stood and glared back at her, and they held the gaze for several moments, before Aubrey looked down at her lap. "I don't know. I just can't stand the thought of her out there. I wasn't thinking."

Reid watched as the second SUV whizzed by. He didn't look back at her, and didn't answer her. After a time, he walked around the Jeep and opened the passenger door. "Get in the back," she said to Griff.

Reid climbed in, staring ahead, and said, "You better turn around."

They pulled up to the farm as the first of the police cars were pulling away. The rest of the dog teams were already on the ground and working the surrounding fields. Aubrey felt foolish then, being absent from her duty. She felt foolish that she had done something so impetuous and illogical. She felt foolish that she couldn't explain it to Spencer. The knowledge that Leah was again with the man who had treated her so vilely and had murdered her mother had taken all logic away from her. She remembered telling herself as she had driven away from town toward the scene of the crime that Griff would protect her, whatever she found. But she knew he couldn't, if there were guns. She had hoped against hope that she might be able to stop it before it happened - she might make a difference against the inevitable. Now Leah was out there, and Spencer thought...well, that she was incompetent, unreasonable. He wouldn't even look at her. As they rolled to a stop, he hopped out of the Jeep without a word, and walked away.

J.J. walked up to Aubrey and said, "We need to move this family. Do you think we could hide them in this community without Jacob finding them?"

"I do," said Aubrey,"If the People understand what is happening, they will hide them."

"Even from Jacob?"

"After all that has happened," sighed Aubrey, "I don't think they would have any loyalty left for him." Then she hastened to add, "Forgiveness, yes, but not blind loyalty."

J.J. nodded as her phone rang and she reached to answer. On the darkened porch, Amos and Emma tried to comfort a distraught Ezra. He sat on the steps and wept uncontrollably now, for his wife, his daughter, the destruction of two families, across two farms. Emma ushered his younger children inside, from where they had been watching the activity from the safety of the porch. Now, their excited chatter had waned as they stared at their father's grief.

Aubrey knew she needed to speak to Emma and Amos about packing some belongings and leaving for a neighbor's house - preferably a neighbor some distance away. As she had driven up the lane she had seen the buggies standing, and knew that many of the silhouettes filling the dark barnyard were those of the People who had sensed the commotion and come in support. There would be several that would offer shelter. In this Amish community, such a thing would immediately be offered without question. Aubrey knew that a few day's time the barn would be rebuilt - a community effort. But for tonight...the threat had been made without question. The extent of Jacob's mental illness had been unclear to her, and perhaps those close to him hadn't known the extent of it either. Surely, in their zeal to protect him from the outside world, they had not dreamed that he would butcher his wife and his sister-in-law. And that he would swear revenge on those that his twisted mind deemed responsible for his shunning - his own family. Had the shunning itself driven him over the edge? Had the sudden isolation from his own people been too much? Had he lacked the coping skills and reasoning that would have brought someone of a healthier mind to either adjust to the outside world or come back into the fold successfully, non-violently? The Amish never abandoned those with illness or disability, but at what cost had they denied themselves the assistance that the modern world offered for a deranged mind?

Aubrey contemplated this and wandered around the farmyard, willing herself to be calmer. Suddenly J.J. ran across the yard, up to Reid where he stood speaking to the firemen. She said something hurriedly to him and he glanced over at Aubrey before replying. J.J. approached her then, "We have Leah, and one of the men is in custody."

Aubrey's relief was so great that she felt her eyes sting. "Jacob is still out there?"

"Yes, and we still need to hide the family. He'll keep coming back," said J.J.

~~/~~

It was past eleven when Reid finally turned the key in his hotel room. Morgan opened his door at the sound, "Hey Kid."

Reid sighed, "You guys got one of them?"

"Yeah. Leah's at the hospital."

"What?" Reid opened his door and turned around to face Morgan,"Is she badly hurt?"

"I don't know, Man. She wouldn't speak when we found her." Spencer felt his throat tighten and looked at the floor.

"So what happened with Aubrey?" Morgan stepped out into the hallway. "She okay?"

"I don't know," shrugged Reid, "guess so." He ignored Morgan's puzzled look.

"So you were right? She was going after Leah?"

"Yeah, she was," Reid stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I TOLD her it was stupid."

Morgan chuckled, "Hey, Reid, she was scared. She probably didn't think."

"Everyone was SCARED. They didn't go running after an unsub. Or three."

"You mad at her?"

Reid was silent, staring at his sneakers. "NO, I'm not MAD at her..."

"What are you?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because...," Morgan teased,grinning, "I think you looooove her."

Reid wasn't in the mood for teasing. "Shut up Morgan." He turned to go into his room.

"Hey, Kid," Morgan stopped the door with his arm. "What's going on?"

Reid suddenly turned on his heel and leaned into Morgan's face.

"I'm not like you! It isn't a game for me!"

Morgan studied the flash of anger in Reid's eyes, "What?" Reid stalked into the room, Morgan on his heels.

"Make yourself at home," said Reid sarcastically. Morgan pulled the chair from a desk and turned it to face the room. Reid paced back and forth, pausing momentarily to glare at his friend.

Morgan wasn't giving in. "What is this about?"

"Me, Morgan. It's about...ME." Reid stopped, thought for a few moments, and sat on the bed with a sigh. "I'm not like you. I don't want one day. Or one...night. I'm not like that."

"So what's that have to do with Aubrey Bennett, and you?"

Reid fingered his watch. "I...I like her, Morgan. I like her too much."

Morgan leaned forward in the chair, a worried line forming in his forehead. "What's too much Reid?"

"Enough to make me think about the inevitable. Look at me," Reid's hands gestured hopelessly, as he stood and paced to the window, "she doesn't know me. She doesn't know . . .what this job is like. About me. About things like my mom . . . the headaches. . ."

"..the drugs?"

Reid looked at Morgan a bit startled. The subject of his past kidnapping, torture, and subsequent addiction had rarely been put on the table by any team member, and then only subtly.

Reid sat again, exasperated. "How can I ask this girl to be okay with all that, Morgan? I CAN'T. There's so much...there's too much."

Morgan searched his mind for some word of wisdom. He hated to see Reid like this. It had been nearly seven years since Reid had joined the BAU, a 23-year-old kid, a naive genius, an innocent virginal child who had seen much more ugliness in life that most adults. Reid was such an enigma. Now he was seven years older, wiser, and his confidence had grown as had his value to the team. Morgan had seen Reid at his worst, and at his best. At his best he was compassionate, sensitive, smart, and fearless. But Morgan knew that even now, Reid didn't see himself as fearless, or competent. Morgan knew that Reid was still haunted by his past and didn't seen to be able to find a way out and forward; he never seemed to come into his own, and Morgan felt for him. In truth, as annoying as Reid was sometimes, Morgan loved him like a little brother.

"Reid, we all have dark secrets, Man. You can't change that. If this girl likes you, why not allow yourself some happiness? Why not take a chance?"

Reid smirked, examining his hands. "What if I take a chance and she changes her mind?"

"That's what 'chance' means, Reid." Morgan measured his next words carefully. "If you care about this woman, don't cheat yourself out of the opportunity...Reid, I have never had that. Maybe that is how you are different from me. Maybe...you have more courage, for more than a game."

Reid looked up at Morgan then. He had never considered this. That Morgan was just plain scared.

Morgan stood abruptly, "Man, it's late. Get some sleep. Or go see your girlfriend. I'm going to bed."

Reid responded with an ironic laugh as Morgan walked out and closed the door.

~~/~~

Half an hour later, Reid stood outside Aubrey's door. As was his nature, he had continued to obsess about their last conversation, and knew that he would obsess about it until he saw her and apologized. He was also obsessing about Morgan's words, and he was taking them to heart in spite of himself. He found himself standing before her door, trying to get up the nerve to ring the bell, inviting hope to come into his mind against all logic.

Suddenly he heard barking, and felt himself break out into a sweat. He had forgotten about the dog! Of course, Griff would sense his presence and Aubrey would be alarmed. He felt like an idiot, and wondered if he still had time to leave without being seen. Then the door opened. Aubrey stood with one hand holding Griff's collar. "Spencer!" she breathed softly.

He wished he could melt into the porch and disappear. How stupid she must consider him to have come here at this hour, awakened her. What had he been thinking? Once again, his intelligence had failed to cover for his lack of common sense, a deficiency that he felt painfully at moments such as this one. Here he was, in another embarrassingly inappropriate social faux pas of his own making. He tried to speak, or even look her in the eye, but his words stuck in his closed throat.

Aubrey let go of Griff, "Go lie down now," she said softly. Then, "Come here, Spencer," and she gently placed her hands on his wrists and pulled him inside. Before he could realize what would happen, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. He was surprised by how soft her cheek was against his, and felt her hair tickle his nose. "I'm sorry I was so stupid," she sighed against his neck, "I was just frantic, and . . . I'm so embarrassed."

As he had done on the hill a few days before, he let his arms encircle her. He felt the silkiness of her pajama top as it slid on her skin. He leaned his forehead on hers and felt his breath hit her face and hers warm on his. He had never felt so close to another person in his life, and for once, he closed his eyes and refused to let it frighten him away. Maybe he was braver than Morgan. Maybe if he wished hard enough, that could be true.

When his lips touched hers he felt he was where he belonged, a sensation he had felt few times in his life. He softly kissed every millimeter of her mouth, and when she kissed his mouth in turn he felt himself smile against her lips. She laughed softly. She stood on her tiptoes to reach him, and something about that, and her softness, endeared her to him. He found himself holding her closer to him, and refused to care that she might feel his growing urge against her. He let his hands wander over her and kissed her with more hunger than he knew he possessed. "Tell me to stop," he heard himself whisper. And she didn't reply, but turned and locked the door. She took his hand and to his utter amazement, led him to her bed.

In years to come, Spencer would recall that night as the night he shook hands with himself. With the Spencer Reid he could become, and might well become, with Spencer the man he wanted to be and could be in the arms of Aubrey. He liked himself when he loved her body. He liked the way he touched her, and lured her, and moved her. When she sighed he was surprised and elated with his own prowess. When he touched her he thought of her fingers on the violin she had shown him a few nights earlier after dinner, when she had played him a sad melody and then laughed as she finished. He imagined that his mouth and his fingers coaxed singing from her body the way she coaxed it from her violin.

When he felt her meet him in equal hunger, he was surprised and felt that he was seeing her mask fall away too. He was moved that she would throw it aside for his sake. So moved and grateful, that he suddenly noticed his face was wet, and she was kissing his eyelids, and saying, "Are you okay?" and he could only nod.

He wouldn't remember when he fell asleep, but he would remember how she held him to her throughout the minutes of their sleeping, and would occasionally shift and sigh in her sleep and pull him nearer still. Her clinging to him made him sleep soundly and when morning broke through the cracks of the curtains, he resented its intrusion into the nest she had made for him.

He lay quietly after he woke listening to her breathe, and inhaling her - the smell of her shampoo, perfume, and sex. He felt her body jump as she dreamt and he gently held her closer. After a time he realized that her breathing had changed and she was awake, but not speaking. He knew that for her, as for him, it was enough to lie still and hold one another - words weren't important, and could come later. He buried his face in her neck and stroked the back of her head.

His phone rang and he leaned over and picked up his trousers from the floor, digging in the pocket for the phone. "Hotch?" he said, sounding a bit too alert.

"Meet us at the station asap. We have a lead."


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

At the police station, the team was seated and waiting for Hotch to bring them all up to date, when Reid sprinted in. He had his customary coffee mug in one hand, notebook in the other, jacket hung over one arm, and his hair was wet. He sported a red plain red T-shirt, and looked as neat as always but completely out of character. Morgan and Prentiss exchanged knowing glances - their little brother did definitely not come directly from his hotel room. J.J. bit her lip and stifled a giggle. Rossi stared at Reid, puzzled.

"What?" challenged Reid as he sat down. Morgan chuckled.

"Okay, we have a positive ID on the one in custody," focused Hotch,"the bite marks match the dental records of one Brandon Fleiss."

The team all focused on the files in front of them, which contained mug shots and criminal history and documentation on Fleiss. "What about the other one? Do we know who he is?" asked Morgan.

"Not yet. Fleiss has been busy. Two priors for sexual contact with a minor, one domestic battery - on his grandmother."

Prentiss squirmed in her chair, "I'll bet the forensics from the murders will match him too. So what's the plan?"

"Morgan and Rossi will interview Fleiss. We need to know who the partner is, and where they have taken the children."

"You think they are still alive?" wondered Morgan.

"We don't know exactly why they took them," speculated Rossi, "There is always a chance that Jacob would keep them alive - they are his own flesh and blood."

"He doesn't seem to have any qualms about that so far..." mumbled Prentiss, "he watched as they butchered his own wife, or did it himself."

"What about Leah?" asked Reid,"How is she?"

"Traumatized," stated J.J., "she hasn't spoken since they got her to the hospital. She's pretty beat up, and has a minor head injury. They'll keep her for a few days for observation before letting her go home."

"Home isn't a safe place," said Rossi.

"Well, we'll have a few days to think about that," said Hotch.

"Wait a minute," said Morgan, standing up to pace and think as he spoke, "why would Fleiss come back for Leah? We know why Jacob would want her...but why would Fleiss risk getting caught?"

"Jacob was with him," said Rossi. "It would have taken at least two of them to set the barn afire, and take Leah without being seen."

Penelope had been watching the team's discussion from her computer-laden cave back at the BAU. Now she had some information to offer. "What do you have Garcia?" prompted Hotch.

"Hello Puppets. You are all out there in the beautiful countryside and I am up to my ears in city traffic and road construction, for which reason I have been stuck in traffic until just a few minutes ago, but...I do have some interesting information on Mr. Brandon Fleiss. He grew up where you are, pretty average childhood, normal kid until he beat up his grandmother at seventeen and spent some time in Juvie."

"We know all that..." began Hotch.

"Ah, but here is what you don't know - while there he took up as a best buddy one Derrick Kramer - sorry Morgan - who at the ripe old age of 18 had been convicted of trafficking child porn."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged a concerned look. "Where is this Kramer now?" asked Rossi.

"Way ahead of you. He is living on a large wooded acreage that backs up to a large wooded expanse of government land. In other words, miles and miles of woods. I located a mailing address, which was a post office box of course, but after that I tracked down his actual place of residence. Texting you driving directions."

"Thanks, Garcia," said Hotch, and then to the team, "let's see if this Kramer has anything to do with these kids. First we need to talk to Fleiss. Hopefully we will get confirmation that Kramer is the partner and know where to start looking. The rest of you stay nearby."

~~/~~

Aubrey was driving back from a morning search and rescue dog training session, when her cellphone rang. She felt her heart race when she saw Spencer's name come onto the screen. It could have have been from excitement, but it wasn't. It was just cold fear.

The night with him had brought surprises, to be sure. Spencer was a tender, careful lover. He seemed to take time to watch her, to know her, as his hands and mouth explored her. He never left her - never wandered away from the connection. He wasn't afraid of it. He often stopped and looked into her eyes, so long that she grew uncomfortable - but she couldn't look away. She was drawn into the dark brown abyss of his penetrating, demanding gaze. He wasn't afraid of the connection their spirits made, and he insisted upon that connection. She had awakened in the morning and realized that not once had she felt humiliated, not once had the things he was doing hurt her, not once had she felt pressured into doing something to him that she didn't want to do. This was all new to her. To be so free, so accepted, to not have to perform for a man. This was new to her. And to have been maskless and naked all night long - even while it was healing her soul - terrified her.

But to walk away from this man was something she couldn't do. Since leaving John, she had felt such relief. There was never a day of emptiness - there was only freedom and peace. Aubrey no longer dreaded nightfall, or avoided the look in a man's eye that told her she would have a job to do soon, to please him. Now there was no man, and no job, and she started to learn who she was again. She had learned to be alone, and live alone, and stop craving a man's touch. And she had been content. But the first time she saw Spencer, saw his hair fall into his eyes, saw his long fingers, heard his soft, smooth, quirky voice - all of her self-imposed rules of isolation had melted away. She had started down a path of trying-once-more, a path of some kind of unreasonable hope, that love could feel good. And that journey had culminated with her welcoming him into her bed, her life, the peaceful places of her life. Now, she found she wanted to stop it, but that she couldn't resist the momentum; the hope was sweet and enticing, and growing so much stronger than the fear.

Aubrey looked at the phone and hesitated, wondering how long it would be before the sight of his call coming in would be a happy feeling. His voice was kind as always. He asked her to meet him at the hotel for lunch.

She drove home to drop off Griffon. The house was cool from a summer breeze that had wafted through the open windows for hours. She stopped and stared at the unmade bed; she felt detached from it, as if someone else had passed the sweet hours there with Spencer. As if she hadn't deserved to embrace that sweetness. His body was warm, and his slender arms strong. The scent of him was strangely familiar to her as if she had known it before somewhere. She remembered that the smell of John's skin had always made her tense, and she shuddered.

Spencer's dress shirt lay on the chair where he had accidently left it behind. A formal gray with thin lavender stipes. He had worn one of her own T-shirts when he left, probably not wanting to be seen in the same shirt as yesterday. She started to pick it up to take it to the hotel with her, but then stopped and put it down again, feeling a small flush of guilt for not wanting to part with it yet - she would launder it for him. She left the bed unmade and went to open the doggy door for Griff. Spencer had laughed when she said that she kept it locked much of the time, for fear an intruder would find it an easy entry. "It's a big door," he had said, "Big door means big dog. Would you want to crawl through there head first?"

Spencer was waiting at a quiet table in the corner of the sun-drenched restaurant when Aubrey arrived. He stood when he saw her, smiling shyly, and placed a hand on her shoulder as she sat down.

"We have two names," he said, before Aubrey could breathe a word of small talk. Spencer leaned in closer and pronounced the names carefully to her, "Brandon Fleiss. Derrick Kramer. Do you know either one of them?"

Taken aback by his abrupt focus on the case, Aubrey stared at him for a few moments. "Uh...yes. I do. I went to high school with one of them. Uh...Brandon, I knew him. He was into some bad things though. We didn't really run with the same crowd, you know."

Spencer nodded. "What about Kramer?"

"No. Brandon...went away for awhile, to jail. I heard. When he came back he was different. I mean, he was always pretty wild. He used to sit in back of me in math class and joke about being high," she laughed.

Spencer frowned slightly. "Do you see him now?"

"Well, it's a small town. You know. He's around. He works at the garage on 8th street, where Ward crosses it. He parties a lot. He has some friend with a cabin up north."

"What?" Spencer interrupted. "Where?"

"I don't know." Aubrey was nervous at his intensity. "Some guy he knew from jail. He has a cabin I guess."

"Where?"

"I don't know!" Aubrey was a little defensive now. He had hardly said 'hello' to her, and now she felt like she was being interrogated. He was changed since this morning, when he had been warm and responsive to her. He had sung - badly - in the shower, and gratefully accepted a large mug of coffee as he dressed. He had been funny and made her laugh. He had kissed her - deeply - when he left. He was different now. Cool. She knew he had the urgency of the case on his mind, she understood that. She was trying not to feel slighted or to be selfish. But something had changed and she felt a knot growing in the pit of her stomach. A familiar fear she had learned to anticipate years ago. A fear that she had called it all wrong, that nothing was at it seemed. Again.

But Spencer didn't see her discomfort - he was already on the phone. "Morgan! Aubrey says Fleiss has a friend from juvie with a cabin up north. She doesn't know where, but it could be Kramer."

It slowly dawned on Aubrey what was happening. "Are the children there?" she asked frantically as Spencer hung up.

"I don't know," he said, "Maybe." He stood up.

"I'm sorry...I have to go."

"What?"

"I have to be ready. Hotch and Rossi are talking to Fleiss now. If he tells them where it is, we'll be going to the cabin." He looked down at her, "Finish your lunch."

Aubrey watched him stop on the way out to pay the cashier. She suddenly realized she had no further appetite and slid her chair back. She was leaving the table when he suddenly appeared again. "Oh! By the way, uh...I'll give you your shirt back too. I am going upstairs to change.

Aubrey forced a smile, "Whenever."

She stepped around him to leave, suddenly feeling angry again. "Well, I don't want to keep it.." he said, "You know, in case you want it or something."

Aubrey breathed deeply. She was ashamed of herself, being so stupid as to leave his shirt at her house. She didn't want it now. She looked up into his face and spoke her words lowly and slowly so as not to call attention to them from fellow diners, "Spencer, I really don't care what you do with it." Then she walked out of the restaurant.

Without turning she could feel him following her into the lobby. "What? Are you mad at me?" he was asking behind her. "What did I do?"

She whirled to face him. "Spencer, I ..." she looked around and lowered her voice again, "I spent the NIGHT with you. You hardly said hello to me!"

"I'm sorry!" he said, looking away from her. "I'm just...working."

She didn't believe him. He had been far less than warm with her at lunch. "You have been talking to me for the last half hour like I'm an acquaintance," she said.

He stood and looked across the room and out the window at some imaginary fascination in the street. She could feel his mind turning, and saw his cheek twitch. She resolved to walk out and not look back. These games were exhausting for her. She had played far too many of them, years ago, enough of them for a lifetime. Now, she was tired. And she wouldn't do this again. She turned to go.

"Aubrey.." he said. "Please stop."

She did, and stood with her back to him, breathing deeply to keep her self-control.

"Would you...just come upstairs with me? And talk to me? Please?"

Aubrey turned slowly and looked at him. "Please?" he said again.

He led her to the elevator. They didn't speak on the way up, and Aubrey thought she might be sick. She wanted to be anywhere but here. But if he didn't want her she wanted to know why, how he could have spent the night with her and been so changed now. How she could have so misjudged him. Her mind was fairly screaming for an answer. She couldn't leave without it.

Inside Spencer's room all was orderly. There were a few books on the nightstand - one in German. He took off his gunbelt and laid it gently on the table. Then he moved a chair in front of her and nodded.

"You going to ask me more questions?" Aubrey demanded petulantly. She regretted it immediately.

Spencer looked down at her, so beautiful. He felt his heart sink and knew what he needed to say. He had to be fair to her, after all. She hadn't done anything wrong. It was all him. He shouldn't have stayed with her the night before. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Aubrey...there are a lot of things," then he stopped, confused. He looked at the floor. "I live in Virginia! I work impossible hours, and... I mean, what are we doing?"

She was silent and looking past him at the window. He studied her eyes...bright and gray now...and wondered if she were fighting tears. He couldn't tell. He couldn't read anything on her face. He felt as if she had already left the room. Left his life."There is a lot you don't know," he continued, somehow more comfortable sharing about himself as she shut down and shut him away, "my...my mother is a schizophrenic hospitalized in Las Vegas!" a small laugh escaped him. "Three years ago, I was kidnapped by an unsub and tortured for two days, and afterward," he looked down at his hands, "...afterward I got addicted to a drug...Aubrey...you have a life here. This would never work." He chuckled nervously, trying to make light of it all, make it all easier and less painful.

Aubrey sat silent and still for so many continuous moments that he thought his head might explode. Finally she said slowly, "Why did you stay with me last night?" She didn't look at him, but continued to stare at the window.

"What?"

"Why did you do that?"

Spencer was at a loss. He had stayed because he had looked at her and had no choice. Because once in his life, he wanted to make love to a woman that moved him to his core. Perhaps he had been selfish...

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Are you," she said, and laughed coldly. It wasn't a question. Then she stood and turned to leave. She reached the door and turned back to face him. Spencer was standing by the bed, helpless, hopeless, confused by his own uncertainty in the face of this. He'd always been a mess when it came to girls. He was only doing what he thought he should. When she turned around her face was wet.

She strode toward him with such determination that he took a step back and nearly tumbled onto the bed. "You're a liar, Spencer," she said, crying, "you aren't sorry at all. You know what? I've been terrified of you! Terrified at what I felt for you! I ...don't you understand? I jumped off a cliff last night! I jumped off a cliff, Spencer!" She stopped to catch her breath. He started to reach for her and she stepped back, out of his reach. "You weren't even worth it," she said then. "I was so stupid! You're a coward, and you aren't worth it." She looked down at the floor and added, so softly that he almost didn't hear it, "And you aren't worth ME." Then she turned and was gone.

Spencer stood stunned, his heart pounding. He realized suddenly that he hadn't even heard the door close. Although he couldn't quite comprehend in his confusion what he had done wrong, he was certain that she was right about all of it. He had made a disaster of everything.

Spencer stumbled into the bathroom and threw himself at the foot of the toilet basin, vomiting. His own self-loathing made his head spin, and he rested his head on the toilet rim and closed his eyes. When he did, he could see nothing but her face as she screamed at him. "You're a coward." "You aren't worth ME." He had almost done it. In spite of all his dark past, he had almost done it - caused this incredible female to want him. And he had ambushed it - safer to end it before she could. He heard himself moan aloud, and then to his amazement he heard himself sobbing. Why had he done this?

~~/~~

In the first hours after her encounter with Spencer, Aubrey was distraught. She drove home with tears blurring her vision, grateful that she was in town and the speed limit was only 30mph, the route familiar. She prayed that she would not pass someone who knew her, who would see her face and ask questions. When she arrived home, she stripped the bed, and washed the sheets. She vacuumed. She wanted to wash every bit of him out of her house, her life. At the end of three hours the house was spotless. She was reminded once again: God had taken a lot from her in her life, but he had made her strong and resilient. This experience would not be in vain. She would be wiser next time. If there was ever a next time.

She tried to force her mind away from Spencer and it wandered to John. He had been so different from Spencer. There were dark moments locked away in Aubrey's mind that she had never told to anyone, partly because there were no words. Moments where in the dark of night he had made her do things. Things she hadn't wanted, things that made her feel like less of a human being. Things that made her feel ugly. A toy. A nothing. If she were honest with herself, they had also happened in the daylight. Her humiliation had never moved him, it only made him more excited, more determined to go through with his fantasy. And through the months and the years, her soul had suffered a wound that she had yet to find a way to heal.

Aubrey had never stopped hating herself for allowing it to go on for three years. Three years of her life, lost. And three years in which she was taught lessons she couldn't seem to unlearn. In her more self-forgiving moments, she told herself that she had been so alone, after Edith died, and then William. She would have done anything, lived with anyone, put up with anything. Anyone to be with, to take care of her. That's why she had stayed too long. But in other moments, when she was suffering the most regret, the darkest of memories, she knew nothing but self-chastisement. Any idiot would have left earlier...

And now she was paying the price. Those years had taught her well, to see the signs. To know when the world was going to explode. But this time she had been so stupid. She had let him get to her. This man. This Spencer Reid. She had let him see the deepest most private parts of her spirit and she was so ashamed now. And worse, she still hadn't learned enough to see rejection coming and prevent it. She had walked right into it. She had, in fact, led HIM into it. She was so stupid that she had not waited for Spencer to take the lead. She had done it for him. No wonder he looked down on her now. No wonder it was so easy for him to do this. She had broken her first rule: she had given him all the power.

She picked his shirt up off the chair, but was unable to throw it into the bundle of laundry. She put it to her face and inhaled its scent. It occurred to her that for a few days, and a few intense hours, she had believed. Even if what she believed in hadn't been real, she had been able to live in that place for awhile. Spencer had made her feel like the world was right again - and she had not felt that in many years. She had those few hours and that memory. Even his abhorrent behavior couldn't change it - she had had that experience in this lifetime, for a few hours, and he couldn't ever take it from her. She opened the bottom drawer of the bureau, a drawer she seldom used, and stuffed the shirt into it. If he wanted it back he could come and get it.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

Reid sat in the passenger seat staring absently out the window as the SUV sped north to a stand of wooded land and the cabin of Derrick Kramer. Fleiss had finally broken down and confessed it, after over four hours of interrogation by Hotch and Rossi. Now the question was, were the children still at the cabin, and were they alive.

It had been about money. The two convicts had been paid by Jacob Yoder to help him kidnap the children. The plan was to take all of them: his own boy and girl and Leah. They weren't to touch Leah, because she was to belong to Jacob. The other two were theirs to sell. Jacob had said that he didn't care what they had to do to the rest of the family, in order to take the children. He knew Ezra was away from home and would come back to find loss and mayhem. Causing Ezra pain, and torturing his former wife, was Jacob's sole motive. As for Jacob's motive - no sane mind would be able to grasp it. His wife had been forced to reject him, and had fled to the shelter of her nearest relative: Ezra. That had sealed her fate.

Hotch glanced periodically over at Reid as he drove. He had been vaguely aware of the little romance between Aubrey Bennett and Reid; Morgan had joked about it. Hotch was glad that Reid was involving himself with a young woman such as Aubrey - it had the potential of turning into something serious, and Reid had certainly lacked that connection in his young life. Hotch understood more than perhaps anyone the value of someone at home - someone to build a home with. Someone to build a life with, outside of the BAU. For the time he had been with Haley - before she had left him - Hotch had known the joy of building an intimate, safe nest in his life. For a time it had kept him sane, and nowadays he struggled to find a substitute for it, and find a reason to hang onto sanity. He enjoyed his work, but he knew he would have to find a better way to cope with its darker aspects, especially now that he was alone again. He wished a lighter load for Reid; he had grown fond of the young, sensitive and sometimes troubled genius through the past six years. Reid wouldn't be able to hold up for more years without someone to make the down time worthwhile. Someone to hold him through the nights.

This morning Hotch had nearly stifled a laugh when Reid walked into the conference room at the police station. In all their years together, Hotch had never seen the boy in a red shirt. He hadn't in fact seen him in a T-shirt. To see both in the same blow was humorous. It had been obvious to everyone what had happened. But something had changed during the day. When Reid had met up with the team in the afternoon he had become withdrawn, even pale. Hotch had twice asked Reid to focus as they spoke. Now, they had ridden near 65 miles without a word from Reid. Something was wrong.

"So...you have a girlfriend?" asked Hotch.

"No. Why would...why would you ask that?" Reid was a bit testy.

So Hotch was right. Something had gone wrong. He didn't answer but let the silence settle back on them, and let Reid take refuge in it again.

After another half hour, Hotch said, "You know, I have never been sorry, Reid."

"About what?"

"About Haley. About Jack. All of it. Having a family."

"But . . . she died because of this job."

"No, she died because of one sick individual."

Reid was quiet then, and Hotch could feel him thinking. "I ended it," Reid said.

"Why?"

"I don't know," answered Reid and turned back toward the window. "Lot's of things. I guess..I really don't know how I could ... and my mom and this job and everything." After a few minutes, he looked back at Hotch, and a sheepish smile played at his mouth, "I really blew it Hotch. She hates me."

Hotch felt a warmth swell in his chest for Reid. He was so young, so awkward. So controlled by intellect and out of touch with the rest of himself. Hotch thought carefully before speaking, "Well, maybe you can't fix it now, and you'll have to stock it up to experience. Which isn't a bad thing.." he winked at Reid. "Or...you can go to her and apologize."

Reid smiled to himself sadly, "I don't know if that would be enough."

"Maybe not..would you rather go home and always wonder?"

Hotch pulled off the highway onto a dirt lane leading into the woods. Dusk was falling now. A moose stepped up onto the road and turned to look at the SUV. They rolled to a stop to wait until she moved her massive slender frame across the road. "Wow," Reid said, looking at her intently.

Hotch watched him, as he often did, wondering what thoughts entered his mind, what questions. Certainly they were questions that the rest of them wouldn't think of, because they hadn't the same foundation of knowledge - all the tiny details about the physical world - that Reid had. Suddenly Hotch realized what a burden that intellect might be.

"Reid, I may be out of line," he began.

Reid turned and looked at him surprised. He shrugged, "No..what?" he asked with soft hesitation.

Hotch put the SUV into drive and slowly rolled forward again over the road, careful to avoid the ruts in the dark. "Don't over-think things. You merely liked her, move on. You love her? Go after her. Don't let that big brain of yours sabotage you."

Reid looked ahead in the dark automobile, his lips silently forming the beginnings of thoughts that he didn't voice aloud. _Don't let your brain sabotage you._ Hotch's words would stay with him for several hours as he turned possibilities over in his head, and those words seemed wiser as time passed.

~~/~~

Rossi stood in the road beside his SUV with a large flashlight and waited until Hotch and Reid approached within a quarter-mile of the cabin. Reid rolled down the window as Rossi approached them. "We don't want to spook them. There is a light at the cabin. It's about 4-500 years into the trees," Rossi gestured at a narrow dirt drive.

As they climbed out of the SUV, Prentiss, J.J. and Morgan stepped into view out of the deep darkness of the woods. "What's the plan?" asked Morgan.

"Let's walk in," said Hotch as he fastened the velcro on his bulletproof vest. "Rossi and Reid, you stay here in case they come through the woods. Everyone, watch yourselves. It's dark, and there are at least two of them. There may be children inside."

The cabin was small and all seemed quiet inside. Leaning into the door, Prentiss exchanged a glance with Morgan. There was no conversation inside. Morgan knocked loudly, "FBI! Open the door!" There was no answer, "FBI! Open the door Mr. Kramer!" Prentiss counted on her fingers, 5-4-3-2-1 seconds, and Morgan kicked the door hard. It flew open. As it did a flood of gunfire came from inside, and Morgan and Prentiss fell crouching back against the outside walls.

When all was finally quiet Hotch called from where he was taking cover by the porch, "Derrick Kramer! We don't want to hurt you. Put the guns down and come out slowly with your hands up." He exchanged glances with Morgan and Prentiss as they waited. "There is no way out now. We need everyone inside to come out slowly with your hands up."

After several long moments, there was a rustling sound inside, then the sound of a heavy metal object being dropped onto a hard flooring. Morgan and Prentiss braced themselves as the sound of boots approached the door's opening. A dishoveled young man stepped out, his hands up. Derrick Kramer. Morgan aimed his gun at the unarmed man as a precaution.

"Walk forward, and down the porch. Lie on the ground face down." Hotch commanded. Kramer obeyed, looking tired, confused and as if he might cry. Prentiss and Morgan covered the door as Hotch cautiously moved to cuff Kramer. "How many others inside?" he asked.

"No one," came the muffled answer as Kramer's face was pressed in to the ground. Hotch nodded to Morgan, and the agents carefully moved inside the cabin.

J.J. dialed Reid on her cellphone. "We have Kramer. He seems to be the only one here. We're going into the cabin now."

Inside the primitive interior, two lamps dimly lit a large common room. Morgan and Prentiss moved slowly, checking the shadows for a concealed gunman. Morgan noticed a computer on the table. Prentiss checked the tiny bathroom; "Clear!" she announced. She moved into the one bedroom, noting that the door had been locked from the outside. She entered and checked behind the door, inside the small closet. When she heard a faint commotion under the bed, she tensed. Swinging around to aim her firearm at the space between bed and floor, she ordered, "Come out! NOW!" careful to be loud enough for Morgan to hear.

As Prentiss had hoped, a child's hand appeared, and then the sleeve of an Amish garment. Two frightened children slowly climbed out from under the bed, as she re-holstered the gun. They slowly stood up, eyeing Prentiss and Morgan with some mixture of curiosity and fear. An adolescent boy and a smaller girl. They had found the Yoder children.

"Where is your father, Son?" asked Morgan.

The boy merely shook his head and stared at Morgan.

Hotch put Kramer in the back of an SUV and strolled across the yard to where Reid and Rossi leaned against the other vehicle. "They haven't said anything. They are in shock. We found some stuff on the computer. Looks like they have been marketing the kids, just haven't found a buyer yet."

"We were lucky," said Rossi. "Where's Yoder?"

Hotch shrugged and shook his head in frustration.

"He sold his own kids," mused Reid. "He obviously feels no paternal affection or obligation to them. He's still out there and still suffering the same delusions about his family. He'll hunt them down again."

The team stood with their own thoughts for a few minutes. Rossi finally broke the silence,"Two down, one to go."

~~/~~

During the long drive back to Youngstown, Reid had time to do a lot of soul-searching. Hotch's words had hit him hard. In truth he often wondered if he might end up alone all his life. And a series of one-night stands, or one-month stands, just didn't appeal to him. He wasn't wired like Morgan, he was someone who craved true intimacy - a meeting of the spirit and mind. Hotch had asked him how he would feel should he leave it like this and go home to Quantico, without looking back. He feared that doing that might create a bigger problem than the one he already had. Even riding back in the darkness, it seemed to him that hundreds of images of Aubrey crossed his mind involuntarily. Little moments in time - a laugh, a touch, a flash of those eyes, her tears, the feel of her softness in his arms as they lay together. How would he cope with these images for weeks or months to come. Or...even years?

Years. YEARS. Suddenly Reid felt a chill. He realized that he might miss her for the rest of his life. He had never been hit by a brick like this over the sight of a woman. He had never wanted anything so much in his life, or been so afraid of anything. And then suddenly, he realized that the fear of missing her always was greater than the fear of losing her. He had to try.

That is, if she would forgive him.

Back at the Youngstown station, Kramer was processed and jailed to await arraignment with his buddy Fleiss. The children were taken directly to the hospital, and would soon be returned to their grandparents and the Amish community. But they had been photographed in some sexual positions, and they would be questioned in depth in the next hours to determine whether they had suffered actual molestation. This and the kidnapping, along with having heard the murders of the Amish women, would be memories that would change them forever, but the arms of the Amish were welcoming and strong, and each member of the team hoped that each of the kids would go on to build a healthy and happy life. The challenge was preventing their father from getting to them again.

The team met for a brief summary of the case thus far. "We can't just hang around forever waiting for this psycho to come after his family!" offered Morgan. Impatient by nature, these long days in this sleepy town had left him antsy and agitated. He longed to wrap this case up and get back to Quantico.

"We have to put a deadline on it.." said Hotch. "Morgan's right. We can't wait indefinitely."

"I...don't think we'll have to," said Reid. "His delusions drive him. He has nothing else really. I think he will come back soon."

"Let's give it three days," said Rossi.

"Done," said Hotch. "We have an APB out for Yoder. We'll put a watch on the Yoder place. That's all we can do for now."

~~/~~

The next evening, Aubrey stepped out of her door and nearly tripped over several objects resting on the porch. Earlier that day she had phoned Derek Morgan to check on the case. Morgan's voice betrayed momentary confusion when he answered, but he didn't ask why she hadn't spoken to Reid, and she didn't offer any explanation. She pretended everything was fine, keeping her voice at a studied pleasant tone.

She nearly yelled when Morgan told her the children had been found. She was greatly relieved that Fleiss and his partner were behind bars, but her heart sank to hear that Jacob Yoder was not found. By noon she had driven out to the Yoder place and spoken to Amos and Emma. They had all formulated a plan. While they welcomed the police presence in front of the property, the Amish couple still felt that they were vulnerable and that the children would be in danger. "I can talk to Jacob if they aren't here," Amos said, "I am his father, he will hear me."

"Amos," Aubrey had said, "Jacob may have helped to kill your daughter and daughter-in-law. They were killed ... badly. He will not hesitate to harm you too."

"The police are here. I will wait."

"What about Leah? About your grandchildren?"

Leah had worked silently about the kitchen with her grandmother, listening to the conversation and saying nothing. Ezra Troyer's younger children played out in the yard, oblivious to the pending danger. An infant sat on Emma's lap. Children who now had no mother. Jacob's two children would be coming back today.

"This is our home," said Emma calmly, letting the baby play with the spatula in her hand. "This is Jacob's home. We will talk to him and let him go willingly to the police. God is watching over this house, and His will will be done."

"But Ezra is also here. Jacob's rage is driven by Ezra's presence. Will Jacob harm Ezra's children? He wants to harm Leah..."

At this, Amos and Emma fell into silence. Amos stood in the corner sipping his coffee. The only sounds breaking the silent peace of the room were the rocking of the chair in which Emma sat and the cooing of the baby. A fresh breeze came in the open window, smelling of cut grass and wet earth.

"Let me take the children to another home. I'll fetch them from the hospital and take them to a neighbor's. At least they won't be here when..if Jacob comes. And Leah could go visiting. Can't we do that?"

The young woman's earnest desire to help had finally softened the resolve of Amos Yoder. "Jacob was given to us. He was never right in the head, or in the spirit. But it was our place to raise him and do right by him. God gave him to us for a reason. It is a hard thing to see this day come." He agreed that the children would be taken to a neighbor's for a few weeks, and that Leah would go as well.

But now, stepping out of the front door, Aubrey was met by a surprise. On the porch at her feet lay an enormous bundle of flowers, and a small package. She picked up the offering and took it inside. Her heart was pounding as she told herself it could be anyone, it had nothing to do with Spencer Reid. There was no card.

Aubrey moved a stool to the counter and climbed up to a high cupboard; she would need a large vase and rarely used such a one for anything. In fact it had been years since anyone had given her a flower, much less this many. She took time to clip the stems of all the flowers and to place them in the vase with lemon and water. Roses - pink and red, and white gladiolas. An obscene display - three dozen stems in all. Who could have done this?

She was walking out the door for the second time when she remembered the package. In her rush to care for the flowers she had forgotten and left it on the kitchen counter. She rushed inside again and found it there, wrapped neatly in gold and brown paper, with a real purple ribbon. Before she had the paper off, as she saw the worn, cracked leather, she knew. This was an antique book, a collector's item. Spencer would have kept such a thing. She removed the last of the wrapping and looked at the front cover: Tennyson's Idylls of the King. She slowly opened the book and caught the piece of paper as it fell out:

_Dear Aubrey, _

_Hopefully we will end the case soon and be leaving. I know you don't want to see me now, but I want you to have something from me. This book has traveled to many places with me. It is a sort of fairy tale, but it gives me comfort sometimes. I hope it will give you comfort too. _

_And I wanted you to know that you are right about everything. I am a coward. And I don't deserve you. You aren't afraid of anything. I wish I were like that. I wish I could have been like that just for you. The truth is I've never really had a serious girlfriend, and I am not good at those things. You would be better off with someone who is. _

_But I think that maybe you changed me for the better somehow. If you ever change your mind about me, just call me and I will be on a plane to Wisconsin,I swear it. And then we could maybe try to do this again__, and right. If you would ever want to. _

_Please take care of yourself, and be happy. I know it sounds crazy now, but this coward loved you, and I am not sorry for a minute of it. I hope someday you will not be either... _

_Spencer._


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

As Aubrey drove down Eighth Street, past the police station, she realized suddenly that it had been only a few short days earlier when she had stood there with Spencer and watched the Amish funeral procession. She had slipped her hand into his, and he had tangled his fingers into hers. It seemed unbelievable to her now that he had stayed with her that night and that she had let him come so close to her. And that he had wanted to.

And he HAD wanted to, she knew it. She had felt him wanting her, as they walked and talked, even before their walk had ended at her door. It had frightened her, but she had invited him in. He had been so happy that night, so at ease in her bed. But something had changed...something she couldn't understand.

Aubrey sighed as she pulled onto the highway, and rolled down the window to let the breeze in as it blew over the fresh fields in the afternoon sun. She felt old today, after all that had transpired. But somehow those few sweet hours with Spencer had healed her a little, and nothing could change that. It had been as if he had given her a gift, brought her something that touched the deepest part of her life, and would forever. She wished he had understood that, but she never would have found a way to tell him. In order to do that, she would have had to tell him about everything, about John.

She felt a familiar sting come to her eyes and blamed the wind through the window. An urgent pressure settled into her throat. Damn him, after all these years John could make her cry. He could still ruin everything. There were dark memories that had chased her through years, across a state. Flashes of things he had made her do, moments and pieces of pictures that she would never be able to unsee. Of herself allowing him to make her do things to him ... the question that still haunted her nightmares - why had she stayed for three years in that Hell?

She thought of Spencer, of his large deep eyes swallowing her as he stared into her face. She had been startled and intimidated at first - that he would so openly challenge her soul to rise up and meet his. But his eyes had shown both adoration and yearning as they wandered over her, and her terror had melted away as his hands and mouth learned her curves. She felt her skin tingling even now as she thought of him, of the way he had touched her, as if it were something reverent. As if...she mattered. He had never left her for a moment of it; he had never wandered into that place John used to go far away from her, where only his own pleasure mattered and the cost to her didn't.

John didn't look into her eyes when they were in bed - or wherever they happened to be when he decided he wanted it. He never looked at her face. He never spoke to her - oh, he spoke,to be sure, but only to utter the same phrases he had heard over and over again in those stupid pornographic films. He lacked the imagination to go beyond that and speak TO her. There had been no tenderness in his hands. They had taken her body as if it were a toy, and his right. Unfeeling, unconcerned, self-absorbed. Once, he had turned her over roughly, and entered her from behind anally. She had hardly believed what was happening, feeling his wide penis pushing into her. "Just relax," he had breathed. Not "Is this all right? Are you all right?" But "Just relax," so that he could get what he wanted. It had been incredibly painful and she had bitten her lip to keep quiet, closing her eyes tightly and hoping for its swift ending. After, she had stumbled into the bathroom to find herself bleeding. She had locked the door, which made him angry, and taken a bath to wash him away as best she could. She had sat in the bathtub trembling, praying that she would heal on her own, since there was no way she would tell a doctor how she was injured.

"You always wash after we have sex," he whined the next morning, smirking at her. "You don't like it on you, do you?" She hadn't answered, sensing the mocking in his tone. Then he said, "Sometimes I'd like to be licked off," and smiled wickedly at her. Funny how he stared into her eyes when he was trying to get a rise out of her, to humiliate her. But during the most intimate of acts he couldn't. She had hated him intensely as she stood there, realizing what a coward he was. She had waited until he was gone to work and then she had packed a bag and left. A few days at the nearest hotel, or alone in the world again, was better than staying in that house with him. In the end, she never went back.

A COWARD. Oh God, that is what she had called Spencer to his face. That is what he had called himself in the note. But she had been so hurt that he would have given her such tenderness and then said it was all a mistake. That SHE was a mistake! She had wanted to hurt him the way he had ripped her heart out, and she had said whatever came into her mind. But he wasn't . . what was it he had said, that his mother was a schizophrenic, his father was gone, that he had done some drugs? Oh, no! What had she done! That he couldn't be with her because of other things...maybe it wasn't cowardice, it was just Spencer trying to be right. Trying to be good, and reasonable and fair. Both to her and to himself. Now it occurred to her that he had demons too, and had been trying to tell her in his fumbling way. But her hurt had been so blinding and in that moment in his hotel room it had taken her over. She had wanted to leave that room desperately - at that moment she could have clawed the door off the hinges to get out and away from Spencer. From his rejection.

And he wasn't a coward. What had she been thinking to say that to him? The night he had lain over her, he had looked deeply into her eyes and softly entered her as he did. He was no coward. But he was wrong - wrong about all of it. Aubrey was a fighter. She had lived years with the memory of cruelty, and now she had known a few hours of something completely different. She knew that such a thing as she had shared with Spencer was worth a fight. And he was going to get it.

~~/~~

As evening set in, Aubrey watched Leah as she worked beside Mary Mast in her large Amish kitchen to wash the dinner dishes. The tension had gone out of the young girl, and she smiled as she chatted in the Amish German dialect to Mary. For a few hours, the horror of the past week had left them, and the children were free again to be themselves. Here with Simon and Mary and their young family, Leah and the Yoder children could find themselves again and begin to put pieces of their lives together. Aubrey hoped that soon Jacob would be caught and they could return to their own family.

As the sun set, the younger children were sent to bed, and Aubrey stood reluctantly. "I need to get back to town and let you all go to bed," she smiled at Simon. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. I know that Amos is very grateful for your help."

"Well," Simon said slowly with an easy smile, "no one will know they are here for now. You say your police are out looking for Jacob Yoder? We can all pray that God puts him in their path." He winked and showed Aubrey to the door.

As Aubrey walked down the porch steps and down the lane to her car, she thought that things were looking up. Although Jacob was out there, he was alone without his comrades in crime, and perhaps he would be careless now, more apt to make a mistake, easier to catch. There was a police presence now at the Amos Yoder house, and Jacob's children and Leah were not there. Perhaps everyone would sleep better tonight.

Aubrey inhaled the falling night air and the mustiness of the fields. It was getting dark, but not too late. The Amish went to bed with the sundown, but Aubrey thought that perhaps Spencer would be up, reading or talking to Morgan. She would swing by the hotel and see if she could find him. Maybe a good, calm talk could put them in a different place.

~~/~~

Spencer had just settled onto his bed with a volume on the future of the black hole theory in astronomical research when his phone rang. He wondered as he reached onto the night table if they finally had a lead on Jacob. It had been a full day since they brought Kramer in, and Jacob would know by now. A saner man might lay low, but Spencer hoped that the troubled mind of this particular unsub would quickly force him out of the shadows. As he flipped open his phone, he heard knocking on his door. "Reid!"

"Hotch?" he asked into the phone as he strode to the door. "What's up?"

He opened the door to a flushed and eager Morgan. "Come on, Kid."

"Reid," Hotch was saying, "There was a leak. Jacob Yoder is at the safe house. The Mast farm. He has them."

"Morgan's here. We're on our way."

It was well past dark when Reid and Morgan they pulled up beside the lane to the Mast farm. An Amish buggy waited at the turn, and an Amish man flagged them over. "I'm Samuel Mast. This is the place," he said, and pointed to a mile marker at the side of the road.

"Thanks, Man," Morgan said, grateful that they didn't have to ask at some house where the Mast farm was. Out here every farm looked the same, especially in the dark. Now, squinting into the darkness as he turned into the lane, he could just see the flashing of the lights on a police cruiser already up at the house.

They were creeping down the gravel lane in the dark, when suddenly Reid shouted. "Aubrey!"

"What?"

"That's her Jeep," Reid was pointing up ahead to a vehicle parked to the side of the land.

"What? Where is she? In the house?" Morgan looked over at Reid in surprise.

Reid's eyes were wide with horror, and his lips parted, drawing his breath in sharply. He met Morgan's eyes and then looked ahead, "Hurry."

Morgan came to a stop beside the three police cruisers already on scene. He was stepping out of the SUV when Hotch and the others rolled up behind them.

"What do we have here?" said Hotch to Sheriff Bontrager as he walked toward the group of cops.

"Jacob is in the house. We have ten hostages. There are six children, including the two Yoder kids, one female juvenile - Leah, one adult male - Simon Mast, and two adult females. We have reason to believe Jacob is armed."

"Who are the adult females?" Reid asked formally, quietly.

"Reid...," said Morgan, trying to interrupt.

" Uh...Mast's wife, Mary. And Aubrey Bennett."

Morgan felt Reid's body stiffen beside him.

"Okay, we'll try to talk to him," said Hotch. "Tell your people to stay back and stay calm. We don't want to spook him and get someone hurt. You have a megaphone?"

The team and police watched as Sheriff Bontrager spoke for fifteen minutes, trying to get a response from Jacob. He asked the man to send out the young Mast children, but got no response.

"There has been no sound inside that house for an hour now," said Rossi, "How long do you want to do this?"

"Hotch, send me in," said Morgan. "I can go through a back window."

"We have to be patient, Morgan."

"There is no SOUND in there, Man."

Suddenly there was the sound of an Amish buggy's wheels on the gravel, the horse clopping quickly up the lane. Amos Yoder appeared from it's cavern. He stepped around to help Emma down out of the passenger side, as Bontrager followed him, "Amos, you can't help Jacob here. He is in there with ten people. I'm not going to promise you this will end well."

Amos placed his hands in his pockets and looked up at the house thoughtfully. He spoke slowly, "He isn't right in the head. He doesn't listen to a lot. But he will listen to his mother."

Hotch and Morgan exchanged worried glances. Rossi stifled a laugh at Prenitiss' look of shock at the man's words.

"Amos, we aren't letting anyone near the house now. Jacob has a gun."

Morgan walked into the high grass around the side of the house trying to assess the number and location of windows. Reid followed. Morgan sensed his friend behind him and was glad of it. Reid could be a bumbling idiot in a social situation, but when there was imminent danger, when they were in the field, the young agent took on a cloak of calm control and focus that Morgan trusted. Even now, knowing that Aubrey was inside, Reid was in control of himself. They hadn't brought flashlights, not wanting to alert Jacob to their creeping around, and they moved slowly and carefully. "I don't see any light," Reid said. "No lanterns."

"What are they doing?" muttered Morgan.

Reid crept up to a low window. Stretching onto his tiptoes his tall, lanky frame could just peer over the sill. "I can't see anything here. It's an empty room." Suddenly he hissed into the darkness, "Morgan, the window is open. SHH. It's a screen."

Morgan fished around on the ground in the darkness and finally picked up a large twig. He tossed it toward Hotch and Rossi. It landed at their feet and they looked toward Morgan, who pointed to the window. Hotch bent his head to Rossi talking, and then looked back at Morgan, holding up 5 fingers. "Five minutes," Morgan whispered to Reid as he walked back to where Morgan stood.

Reid felt his heart pounding like thunder, and yet felt strangely calm. _Adrenaline. It courses through the veins, quickens the heart, pumping blood to extemities to ready them for the flight response._ He had told Hotch once that he always did his best work at times of extreme terror, and it was true. His mind settled into a reasoning, calm rhythm. He trusted himself. Aubrey was in that house, and he knew he could rely upon himself to do what he needed to do, calmly using his most well-trained skills, to get her out.

Morgan pressed his watch, watching it light up. "Two minutes, Kid, we're putting you through that window first. You...you okay with this?"

"I'm fine with it, Morgan." Reid started slowly through the grass again to the window, Morgan close behind.

Prentiss suddenly appeared and fell in behind them in the darkness. Drawing a pocketknife from his jeans, Morgan reached high and slashed at the screen, three times. Then he nodded to Reid and bent, offering his laced fingers to Reid's foot for the boost.

Once inside, Reid drew his gun and crept silently to the door of the room. Listening, he could detect nothing. He cautiously turned the knob, and slowly opened the door a few inches. His eyes had adjusted some to the darkness, but he waited and squinted before seeing through the cavernous great room into the kitchen beyond. The light from the new moon could only offer a small bit of help, but he could see children sitting silently against a wall. Leah sat on one side of the row, her arms around a small child. Reid was momentarily grateful that he couldn't see her face well enough to see the fear. He could not see Aubrey nor Mary Mast. He felt his heart quicken as Jacob came into view, pacing the room. He had a hunting rifle in this arms.

Reid crept back to the window, and whispered to Prentiss and Morgan. "He's got a rifle - hunting. The kids are okay so far, just quiet. Nobody is talking... Jacob is talking to himself a little. He's agitated."

"Can you lift me?" Morgan asked Prentiss, who looked back at him with momentary disbelief. "No, you lift ME."

Suddenly Reid jumped as he heard a woman's stifled cry. He looked back toward the door and stood. "REID!" Morgan hissed, "WAIT!".

But Reid wasn't interested in waiting. He sprinted soundlessly to the door and knelt again, watching. Jacob waved the gun at the row of children, and a woman stifled a cry again. The Amish man was babbling to himself now in German. Even in the darkness, Reid could see Leah shaking with fear. Several of the children began to cry, and he wished in vain that they could be silenced - they would further agitate the crazed man.

Then he saw Aubrey. She crossed the room, her eyes fighting not to look at the rifle as she passed Jacob slowly. She stood in front of the children and turned to face him. "Jacob," she said. "Jacob, there are police outside. They will not let you leave here with Leah, or with your children." Jacob responded by waving the gun at her. "Sit down," he ordered.

Aubrey stood, and spoke slowly and softly. "They will kill you Jacob. You need to put down the gun and walk outside with me now. They aren't going to wait."

"SIT DOWN!" He ordered again and punctuated the air with a shotgun blast. Plaster fell from the wall just over Aubrey's head as she sank to the ground beside Leah.

Reid stood and pushed the door out of his way, "FBI!" he shouted. "Put the gun down NOW!" Jacob swung and aimed at Reid, and Reid fired. Prentiss was right behind him and pushed past him into the room. Chaos exploded as the children, startled, ran for the door. Prentiss shouted into the yard, "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" as they poured down the porch steps. She looked back at Reid, who was oblivious to anything but making his way to Aubrey.

~~/~~

Morgan was silent as he drove back to town. Jacob Yoder was dead. Reid's shot had gone right to his head. The kid always could aim true when he needed to badly enough. Morgan had watched the forensics people go into the house to examine the body. Jacob Yoder's parents waited silently in the farmyard with the police. There was no mournful wailing, hardly a tear. God had given them this burden, and now it was taken away. They had done their duty, they had loved him through childhood and into a troubled adulthood, and now it was over. Relief canceled out tears. Jacob could go on to find his peace elsewhere now.

Morgan had watched Reid slide Aubrey into the back of the SUV, without speaking, drawing his FBI jacket around her shoulders. She wore a look of utter wide-eyed confusion on her pretty face, and Morgan knew from experience with victims that it would be days before that look went away. Seeing a person shot and killed was always traumatic, even for a seasoned law enforcement professional. For a bystander, a hostage, it was certainly a shock.

Now, as they drove silently back down the country road to the highway to town, he glanced into the rear view mirror periodically and watched them - Reid and Aubrey. Reid cradled the girl in his arms and whispered softly, kissing the top of her head through her hair intermittently. Morgan wasn't embarrassed as he strained to hear the words, but couldn't make them out. He only heard an occasional, "Shhhhhhhhh." Aubrey was stone still and never spoke.

Morgan drove them straight to Aubrey's house, and followed Reid as he helped Aubrey out of the car and up the steps to the door. Reid took the keys from her and opened the door, greeting her dog and flipping on the light switch. Then he turned to Morgan. "I'm going to stay her with her. Can you tell Hotch?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll see you tomorrow, Kid." Morgan had never seen his colleague in this light. Reid jumped whenever anyone touched him. Even when Morgan touched his shoulder in affection, as he often did. Reid avoided even shaking hands - stepping forward and offering his only when he deemed it useful to the situation. Now, he held this woman as if he had done it all his life. Morgan hadn't known Reid was capable of such...tenderness. He wondered how far the relationship had really gone. He had been wrong to think so lightly of it, and to underestimate the depth of Reid's attraction to Aubrey.

~~/~~

Reid lay a long while in the dark waiting and listening to his sweetheart's breathing until it became regular and deep, before he allowed slumber to overtake him. Aubrey had not spoken a word. She stared into space as he respectfully removed her outer clothing, and helped her to the bed. He had gone into the kitchen to feed Griff, not really knowing if he should, but not wanting her to worry about trivialities. When he came back he found her trembling, laying on her side, staring at nothing. She held a wadded up piece of clothing to her chin as if it were a child's stuffed toy. Spencer gently covered her, and as he did he recognized that the piece of clothing was his own shirt - he had left it here the last time he was here. The thought that she would keep it and use it to comfort herself... moved him so deeply that he felt faint. He switched off the lamp and lay down beside her and faced her, close enough that he could feel her breath on his face. He studied her beautiful heart-shaped face in the moonlight. His hands found hers between them where she clutched his shirt, and he covered them with his own. Her eyes were large and haunted, and bored into his with a million questions that she couldn't yet formulate. He knew that her mind was still seeing Jacob fall from the gunfire. He looked back into her eyes with all the love filling his heart that he had withheld from her, and from time to time he smiled softly at her to reassure her. _I won't leave you. You're safe now. I love you, Aubrey._

After a time, she stopped shaking, and he slipped off his shirt and trousers and got under the covers with her, pulling her to him. She curled against his side and lay silent, waiting for sleep to come. It was a long wait.

At some point during the night, Spencer felt himself being pulled from a deep sleep by the strong sensation of being touched intimately. It was comforting and sweet, but as he realized what it was he gained consciousness rapidly. He felt his manhood spring to life, and her mouth on him. He gasped in surprise. Minutes later he was whimpering in pleasure as she teased him, and suddenly she stopped and stretched the length of his long frame up to his face, laying her body on his, and kissed him deeply. He could feel her breasts against him, her nipples against his chest, and he realized she was naked. "I can't help it," she whispered,"I can't not touch you."

He wrapped her into his arms, and kissed her back for a long while, and then explored her once again with his hands. He rolled her under him and covered her protectively with his body, and he slowly coaxed her. When his elegant fingers found the heat between her thighs she gave a few small cries, and he saw tears on her face. "I'm sorry!" he said, "Did I hurt you?" He pulled back from her to look at her face.

"No," she laughed softly and pulled him to her, "Don't stop. I just...I just need you."

After they were spent, she wrapped her arms around him, one around his neck and one around his side. She stroked his back slowly up and down, a simple gesture that he found so moving that he nearly cried himself. He thought that he had never felt so at home in his life. He lay with his cheek against hers and listened to her breathing. She turned her head slightly and kissed his ear, sending tingling coursing through him again. "I am not afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm not afraid of your past." He thought about this for a time. She had no idea about his past - how dark it had been, what the consequences might be that he still didn't know himself. He lived with fear of them every single day. How could he ask this person - this wonderful, loving girl - to share those fears? After a long pause, he whispered into her hair, "You don't know. You don't know...what I've done. What I've...known. Aubrey..."

"I don't care," she purred, still not moving from his ear. "Life is short Spencer. I've spent so much of it missing you. I've missed you for years. I don't care. I'm going to fight you if you run. I'm going to fight you." Then she drew back and looked into his eyes with those icy blue orbs. "And I'm going to win," she smiled.

He nuzzled back into the crook of her neck, and kissed her shoulder. "You jumped off a cliff."

"Yes, I did." She breathed in and out deeply before speaking again, "And I'm not sorry. I would do it again, to be with you one night," she said softly, shyly.

Spencer felt his heart pound as she whispered to him. He wondered if she felt its increase, if she knew what it meant for him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't...brave enough to stay with you."

She drew back again. "Spencer you are one of the bravest people I've ever known." Then her eyes looked away from his and down as she stoked his shoulder, "I was wrong to tell you otherwise. I'm so sorry, Baby."

The word "Baby" as she said it left an explosion in his head that traveled the length of his body, and he pulled her closer in his arms and kissed her for a long time, wishing that he could somehow merge with her and climb into the depths of her, and rest there for the rest of his life on earth.

~~/~~

Hotch watched as the team walked to the jet, and turned back to hurry Reid along where he stood saying goodbye to his girlfriend. Hotch started to open his mouth to call to him, but stopped himself and smiled. He'd give them a few minutes. He watched Reid's fingers tangle into her hair as he hugged her to him once more, and he remembered with a pang how he had felt when he first knew Haley all those years ago. Before he knew how much a man could crave a woman, and what he would do to protect her.

As Reid entered the plane, Prentiss quickly lowered her eyes toward her magazine. J.J. smiled and looked down into her lap, opening a book. Morgan looked at Reid with a sly smirk as Reid dropped into the seat opposite his friend. "What," said Reid, "no offensive comments? No chiding review of my every move? No lecture about how we men shouldn't get too involved? How playing the field is so glorious?" Morgan looked at Reid intensely for a long moment. "Nope," he said smiling, and buckled his seatbelt.

Reid gazed out the window and watched the plane roll away from the terminal. He wondered if she stood there watching, or if she had already turned and left. He had promised to come back in a month's time, if even for a few days. And although he hadn't said it to her yet, he would be flying her to Virginia too, and often. They would make it work. They - HE - would jump off the cliff.

He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. One day, he would fly into this very airport, and meet her and they would drive off together in the Jeep. Maybe stop high on the hill where she had taken him. And they would sit in the grass again and look out over the beautiful farmlands. And this time he wouldn't be afraid of her, of loving her. This time, he smiled to himself, he might even bring a ring.


End file.
